KNIGHT AND SHADOW
by DiyosEkisMakina
Summary: Out of the chaos that nearly destroyed Gotham, The Batman confronts a new enemy--and Bruce Wayne finds a new hope.
1. Chapter 1

**KNIGHT AND SHADOW**

**Prologue**

The young woman looked out the window of the plane and saw Gotham coming into view. Pretty soon, she knew, they would be landing at Goodwin International Airport. From the sky, Gotham looked like it was just waking up from a night's slumber, the dawn slowly lighting the cityscape. Of course, from experience, she knew that Gotham never slept, much like any major capital.

The pre-landing announcements came over the plane's P.A. system. The young woman took the folder of documents resting on the tray in front of her and kept it in her traveling bag. She'd reserved two seats on the plane, effectively giving her space and privacy throughout her flight. That hadn't kept some of the men who were unaccompanied from approaching her, although that was understandable. The young woman was attractive, with Eurasian features and a slender frame. Her clothes did her appearance justice while maintaining a considerable degree of modesty. After all, she didn't believe in exposing too much of herself.

The plane banked slightly, giving her a better view of the city. She fancied that she could see all the traffic on the streets. It had been a long time since she set foot in Gotham. Her father took her there before she entered university. She remembered how awestruck she was at the tall buildings, the lights, the noise, and the swirl of activity all around her. Despite the fact that she spent her early years in different countries, there was a different feel to Gotham, an almost palpable vibration that seemed to resonate through the aircraft as it drew closer to the city.

_It's a beautiful place, isn't it, my little one? _she remembered her father asking her then.

_Yes, father, it is,_ was her reply. _And so large! It's almost like London…or Rome._

Her father smiled and nodded. _You've made an excellent observation, my dear child. In many ways, Gotham City is like London and Rome—a center of culture and learning, of grand dreams and great deeds. _Then her father's expression changed. They crossed the street, walked down a few blocks, and the young woman saw the _other_ side of Gotham: the slums where the poor resided; the homeless huddled in dark alleys, surrounded by the refuse discarded by others but appropriated by the unfortunates who still considered them usable; criminals both petty and prominent preyed on the innocent.

_But it is also fast becoming a pit of corruption and decadence_, _my dear,_ her father said. _And the time will come when it will collapse under the weight of its own sins. _

_Isn't anyone here doing anything to stop it from happening, father? _she asked, disturbed by such a possibility.

Her father didn't answer right away. As they passed by a clinic that was receiving some indigent patients, he told her: _There are a few…but just a few. And in the end, what can few do against many? How can a few hold back the inevitable?_

_But you started with just a few followers yourself, father,_ she pointed out to him. _You've been successful in reaching your goals despite that._

_That is true…but we few have been willing to make sacrifices…great sacrifices,_ her father replied. _I wonder if the few who seek to save Gotham are capable of doing the same._

As the young woman walked into Goodwin International Airport's lobby a couple of hours after disembarking from her flight, she spotted a newspaper in one of the airport's shops. It featured a story about Bruce Wayne inaugurating a new wing of Mercy Hospital, which she remembered having read as being one of the buildings that was destroyed in the chaos caused by a criminal known only as "The Joker".

She thought back to her father's question once more as she looked at the photograph. Bruce Wayne was dressed in a well-tailored suit and had a smile on his face as he stood in front of the new wing. From what she could see in the shop window, the wing was named after his mother, Martha Wayne.

The young woman smiled and said to herself: _The few are few no longer, father. And they_ are_ willing to make sacrifices._

Talia Head stepped out of the airport into the light of a new day in Gotham City.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

The suspects: a criminal gang known as the Jokerz. Their location: several Gotham side streets, evading arrest.

The onboard radio crackled and Commissioner Gordon reached for it. Beside him, Detective Anna Ramirez glanced down at the GPS unit that had been retrofitted into their squad car courtesy of Wayne Enterprises.

"Adam Six-One," Gordon spoke into the handset, holding on as Ramirez made an almost ninety-degree turn down a street that was only inches wider than their vehicle.

"_Adam, Six-One, this is Baker Nine-Three," _Detective Thomas Burke said. _"We've got two of those clowns ahead of us. We're in hot pursuit down East Sixteenth Street along Pearson." _

"_Baker Nine-Three, this is Golf Two-Five," _Lieutenant David Cornwell interjected, _"try and get them to go down East Fourteenth. We can box them in at Uricchio. Copy that?" _

"_Copy, L.T.," _Burke replied, calling Cornwell by military nickname he'd given him since they first met. _"Dag and I will push those clowns right to you. Hope you're ready." _

"_Ready and waiting, Burke," _Cornwell replied. _"Be careful."_

Gordon put the handset back on its hook. He felt some pride in the way that the officers of the Gotham P.D. had been working together lately. After the trouble caused by the real Joker, he was worried that some of the men might be demoralized. If that had happened, he'd be crippled since a good number of the cops on the force were deep into things they shouldn't be.

Ramirez hit the brakes, jolting him out of his reverie. _Now is not the time to be feeling good, Jim,_ Gordon reminded himself quickly. _At least not until we nab those Jokerz._ The Jokerz were a gang of thugs, hoodlums, and assorted lowlifes who obviously idolized the man who almost single-handedly destroyed the city. Fortunately for them, he'd been stopped—but at a high price.

"Sir, we've got one of the suspects nearby," Ramirez said after consulting the GPS unit. Gordon looked at the monitor and nodded. "Cut through here," he told the detective. "We should be able to catch up to him at Infantino and Giella."

"Right, sir," Ramirez said. She turned the steering wheel hard to the left and traversed an alleyway, knocking over some garbage cans. "Sorry about that."

"We can worry about that after we—there he is!" Gordon pointed towards a muscle car that was speeding away from them. Ramirez shifted gears, punched the gas, and went after it.

One of the Jokerz' escape cars sped past a darkened street, trailing gunfire as its passengers traded fire with pursuing police. Then one of the Jokerz produced a LAW 80, took aim, and destroyed the lead pursuit car with an expertly-timed salvo.

"Whooo-hooo!" the gang member laughed. From inside their vehicle, the driver and the other passenger laughed with him—until something came into their line of sight.

"What the—?" the driver said. He stepped on the gas and got close enough to see that the vehicle in front of them was some kind of motorcycle being ridden by…

"Jesus, it's him," the gang member beside him in the front seat said. "It's the Bat."

"Where?" the thug with the missile launcher asked as he got back inside their vehicle, a modified, souped-up SUV.

"Dead ahead," the driver said.

"Dead is right," the thug with the missile launcher said. He put away the LAW and grabbed a general-purpose machine gun. Then he popped back out of the roof. "Eat this, Bat!" he roared, opening fire. Bullets lit up the night. None of them, however, reached the motorcycle or the Bat.

"Come on, man, I'm wasting rounds!" the machine-gunner thug said, hammering the roof. "Get after him! Stay on his tail!"

The Batman smiled slightly when he heard what the thug said. He waited for them to close the distance slightly before he activated one of the defense systems. Then the Batpod accelerated away from the Jokerz.

"Running away, huh?" the gunner thug screamed. "Wimp! Come back here and—" His cry was cut short when an explosion occurred underneath the Jokerz' SUV, sending it flying. The SUV rolled several times until it hit a wall and stopped. The police cars behind it braked in time. As some of the officers got out to check on the occupants of the SUV, a call was sent out to Gotham F.D.

"What the heck did that?" one of the cops asked, staring at the wreckage of the SUV.

"I don't know but whatever it was sure did a number on these goons," a younger cop said.

"Someone better tell the Commissioner that the Bat's on the prowl," another policeman said.

"You think it's him?" the younger cop asked.

"Not unless the commish just had the streets mined to stop guys like these."

Renee Montoya was about to get out of the squad car when her partner, Harvey Bullock, stopped her. He reached behind them and got something from the back seat. "Here," he said, handing Montoya her body armor. "You think you're bulletproof like that guy in Metropolis Captain Sawyer told us about?"

"Sorry, boss," Montoya said sheepishly. She put on the body armor and then got out of the car just as another squad car pulled up to theirs. Josh Azeveda and Trey Harley got out and walked over to the other two detectives.

"Good grief," Bullock said, rolling his eyes in mock horror. "More kids. Where the heck are Burke and Procjnow?"

"They're rounding up some of the other clowns," Hartley replied. "Looks like you're stuck with us, Bull." He was the only one of the newer detectives who dared call Bullock by his nickname. Bullock pretended to hate it but actually respected Hartley, as well as Montoya and Azeveda, because of the way they made the grade: the hard way, climbing the ladder up from patrolman up to the MCU.

"Yeah, but at least you two got more sense than to leave your vests behind," Bullock said, casting a dour eye at Montoya. Montoya shrugged apologetically. Despite his brusque, often confrontational nature, Bullock was actually rather protective of Montoya. At least she was clean, not like that lousy piece of trash Flass that he had to put up with when Jim Gordon got moved up to lieutenant. Flass was dead now and good riddance, he thought. If Montoya learned not to make anymore rookie mistakes and didn't get killed, she would probably make a very good detective.

"So what have we got?" Azeveda asked. He walked towards the corner of the building that kept them out of sight so far from the suspects they were pursuing. He peered carefully out of the corner of the building. Across the street from where they were was an abandoned building, probably an import-export company that got shut down when money got tight. It was a three-storey brick and glass dump that looked squat despite its height. There was a small warehouse that was attached to it.

"I counted six or eight suspects," Montoya told him. "It's a given that they're armed and dangerous."

"They're in there?" Hartley asked from behind Montoya.

"Yeah," Bullock replied. "We trailed them here. We figured the other clowns were just plain bait for Gotham P.D. to catch. Montoya and me, we kept an eye on the main group. I figured once their caper was done, they'd run along home."

"And this is their hideout, huh?" Azeveda looked at the building. "So, how do we do this?"

"Break out the riot guns and radios," Bullock replied. "Hartley, you send out another call for backup. Tell 'em we're going in so make it quick. We take it a floor at a time. Stick with your partner in case we get separated. Cover each other's backs. Got it?"

"Got it," Azeveda said. He and Hartley checked their shotguns. Montoya handled hers gingerly.

"Try not to shoot me or the others with that, Montoya," Bullock ribbed her. "That ain't how I want to retire." Hartley and Azeveda laughed softly. Montoya simply said: "Right, sir."

"All right, let's go," Bullock said.

The core group of the Jokerz was in one of the old offices in the building that served as their headquarters. J-Man, the gang's leader, was dividing the spoils of the night's labors when Terminal, their tech and gadget guy, spoke up from where he sat. "We've got company," he said. "Something just tripped the electronic eyes."

"Who is it?" J-Man asked.

"Cops," Terminal replied. "Who else would it be?"

"How many?" Triphammer, the gang's enforcer, wanted to know. He was a big, heavily muscled goon who enjoyed inflicting pain on people.

"Four cops, no backup," Terminal said, watching his monitor. There was an image from one of the low-light cameras on the screen. The cops were trying to get in by the back exit of the warehouse area.

"How _tactically unimaginative_ these policemen are," Watkins observed over Terminal's shoulder. He liked to think of himself as the most erudite of the Jokerz. Most of them thought he was a pompous jackass. Still, he was good at running the show when J-Man wasn't around so the other Jokerz didn't give him too much guff.

"What are we waiting for?" Pilo asked. "Let's paste them and waste them!"

"A rather obvious course of action," Watkins commented, "although I am in _concord_ with you with regards to it."

"Huh? Ain't the Concord been scrapped?" Scab interjected. "It ain't flyin' no more, I heard." Scab was muscle, like Triphammer, but he wasn't as smart. Truth be told, he was a dimbulb—albeit an obedient dimbulb.

"Scab, just get your butt over to the warehouse with Watkins, Pilo, and Cue," J-Man said.

Scab nodded and the four Jokerz left.

The Batman watched from the rooftop of another building across the Jokerz' HQ. He'd made good time getting there, despite having to assist the police a few times with rounding up the other gang members. Bullock and the three other detectives were probably inside and making their way to where the Jokerz' main unit was waiting.

He stepped onto the edge of the roof and jumped. Just then, he heard gunfire from inside the building.

Montoya ducked as a hail of bullets raked the pillar behind which she'd taken cover. Stick with your partners, Bullock had ordered them. Unfortunately, she was now cut off from Bullock, Azeveda, and Hartley.

"_Montoya! You better not be dead!" _Bullock's voice said over her earpiece.

"I'm all right, sir," she said. She ducked again as one of the Jokerz blasted her position. "Well, I've been in better situations—"

"_Right, Montoya. We're on our way. Just keep yourself covered." _Bullock signed off and Montoya returned fire while there was a lull in the shooting.

"Why couldn't they have issued us M4's or even M-16's?" Hartley wondered rhetorically as he and Azeveda took turns shooting back at the Jokerz.

"I don't think the commissioner wants his detectives to have assault weapons as standard-issue firearms, Trey," Azeveda replied.

"Yeah, and look at us now." Hartley pumped several rounds at the gang members firing at them and then ducked. When things quieted down, he heard Bullock shouting orders: "Move it, kids! Move!"

"Here we go," Azeveda said. He crouched, waited, and then zigzagged his way to where Bullock was waiting. Hartley followed quickly. Somehow, they were able to evade the Jokerz' rounds. "So how's your partner doing?" Azeveda asked Bullock as they joined him behind a derelict truck.

"She's alive," Bullock said tersely. "But we have to get to her before they blow her away."

"How are we going to do that, Bull?" Hartley wanted to know.

"Simple, Hartley—you're the high-school track hotshot," Bullock told him. "You're going to run over to where she is while we cover you."

"Oh, yeah, great plan," Hartley agreed. "If I don't get killed doing it."

"We'll keep you covered, Trey," Azeveda assured his partner. "Just make sure you get to Montoya before the clowns turn her into Swiss cheese."

Hartley's expression turned serious. "Give me the word, Bull."

Bullock waited for the firing to stop again…and then told him: "Now!" Hartley scrambled for Montoya's position. The Jokerz fired at him. Bullock and Azeveda fired at the Jokerz. The dimly lit warehouse was stitched with red-hot rounds flying back and forth.

The Batman intended to intervene once he was inside the warehouse when he noticed something. He made himself wait despite wanting to rescue the female detective who was pinned down. Moments later, he knew he was right: the Jokerz pulled back from their positions, despite having the advantage. They weren't shooting to kill—at least, not yet. They were simply giving the detectives enough a fight to keep them at bay. No doubt they planned to lure the detectives into the much more confined spaces of the office building attached to the warehouse and deal with them there.

The Batman didn't wait for the detectives to pursue the clowns. He left his perch above the warehouse floor to intercept the Jokerz before they could lay down their trap. He was careful to avoid the electronic tripwires so as not to alert the other gang members.

Cue was hiding beneath the hallway floor, waiting for the detectives to pass him by. Like the warehouse, the second-floor hallway of the office building was dimly lit. That gave them an advantage in ambushing anyone stupid enough to break into the Jokerz' home.

He heard footsteps—slow, stealthy footsteps. Cue smiled, thinking that he would get the first kill. Once the footsteps were past him, he sprang up from the floor like a malign jack-in-the-box. "BOO!" he said, intending to scare his victim as thoroughly as possible right before he killed him.

Something kicked him back down into his hiding place. The trapdoor fell on his gun hand—and something came down on it hard. A sickening snap told him that his wrist was broken. The submachine gun fell limply from his hand. Then he was pulled back out.

The last thing he saw was shadowy fist just before it knocked him senseless.

Scab thought he was smart, hiding in one of the empty offices. He thought no one would be able to tell that he was there. And when one of the detectives peeked into the office—BAM!—Scab would blow his head off his shoulders.

The door to the office creaked open, surprising Scab. His finger tightened on the trigger. He waited for a detective to appear. Nobody did. He frowned. Maybe one of the other Jokerz was playing tricks on him? He got up from behind the desk where he was hiding and went to pull the door shut.

Just as Scab's hand was about to touch the knob, a shadow appeared. The door was slammed into his face. He reeled backwards. The shadow followed him. He was disarmed so he swung out with his nightstick. The shadow blocked it and took it away. Scab felt it hit his kneecap. A bright red flare of pain erupted from his knee.

The bright red flare of pain was soon replaced by utter blackness.

"What the—" Hartley knelt beside the limp form of Cue.

Azeveda pointed his shotgun at the clown. "Is he dead?"

Hartley checked for a pulse. "No, he's alive. But it looks like something beat him to within an inch of his life."

"And what might you think it was that did that, Hartley?" Bullock asked as he and Montoya came up behind him.

"Gee, Bull, it sure wasn't me or Josh," Hartley answered wryly. "So who could it have been?"

"Is it…The Batman?" Montoya asked. "He's here?"

Bullock fixed a sour look at his partner. Montoya was enthralled by the various stories told around Gotham Central about The Batman. She had all the makings of a fan of the Bat, something that Commissioner Gordon _and_ Bullock didn't want to encourage. The Bat, after all, was a vigilante while they were the duly appointed officers of the law. But the younger cops looked up to The Batman like he was their hero. Bullock found that distasteful but, privately, like some of the older cops—especially those on the front lines fighting against the mob and lunatics like the real Joker—he didn't begrudge the help that the Bat was giving them. He just wished that he could get away with even half of the things that The Batman did.

"If he is, Montoya," he told his partner, "don't count on seeing him. That's not how he works."

"Sir, we've got another one here." Azeveda was standing outside a disused office. Bullock went over to him and, in the light of the flashlight mounted beneath the detective's shotgun, he saw Scab laid out on the dusty floor.

"Think it _is_ The Batman, sir?" Azeveda asked quietly.

"Maybe. You and Hartley stay here and secure this area." He waved Montoya forward. "Come on, partner—let's go get the rest of these clowns."

J-Man didn't like the images on Terminal's monitor. Cue and Scab were out. Watkins was running like the devil was after him. And Pilo was locked in desperate combat with the devil himself, although it didn't last long.

"Time to pack it up and get out of here, boys," the Jokerz' leader said. "Get the all the money, get whatever guns and ammo we can carry. Leave the rest."

Triphammer snorted. "I ain't running from the Bat."

"Suit yourself," J-Man said. "When he comes through that door, you can be the first to greet him."

Triphammer snorted again but made no further comment. He began to gather up his weapons and his share of the loot. "Don't worry, big fella," he heard Top Hat tell him. "You'll get to tango with him next time."

"Where are we going?" Terminal asked J-Man.

"Up to the roof," J-Man said. "We've got a way out there."

Watkins would've been able to join his comrades—except Montoya caught him with an adrenaline-charged tackle. He tried to grapple his way out of it but the detective had him restrained before he could put up a serious fight. And just to keep him honest, Bullock kept his shotgun aimed at his head.

"Where are the other Jokerz?" Montoya asked.

"No doubt making their escape as we speak," Watkins replied. "They're on the roof, most likely."

"You better not be lying to us," Bullock warned him.

"My dear fellow, what point would there be in _dissembling_ at this point?" Watkins remarked.

Bullock nodded. "All right, Montoya you stay here and get Hartley and Azeveda on the horn—" When he looked up, though, his partner was gone. "Montoya!" he yelled, cursing.

"Rather _impulsive_, isn't she?" was Watkins' comment.

"Shut up," Bullock growled. Watkins wisely obeyed.

"So how are we getting out of here?" Terminal asked when the Jokerz were on the roof.

"Relax, kiddo," Top Hat said. "Me and the J-Man, we've always got a plan." He opened the briefcase he always brought with him. He took out various pieces and parts and began to assemble something. "All we have to do is zip-line ourselves across to that other roof over there, then go down the fire escape, and we live to fight another day."

"Sounds dangerous," Terminal remarked. "Are you sure that thing can hold our weight?"

"I'm sure," Top Hat assured him. "Besides—would you rather fight the Bat?"

Terminal looked aghast at the prospect. "No, I don't think I'd even care to try."

"That's too bad," someone said. "There's no harm in trying." The Jokerz looked up in time to see The Batman leap from the top of the rooftop's access point. He sent Terminal flying with a well-placed kick. Top Hat rushed him, hoping to bludgeon him with his zip-line contraption but The Batman stepped out of the way and then smashed his device into his face. Top Hat toppled, clutching a broken nose. A swift kick to the temple knocked him unconscious.

"All right! This is what I've been waiting for!" Triphammer yelled with glee. He willingly tossed his assault rifle aside. "Come on!" he challenged The Batman. Then he advanced on his foe, swinging his huge fists.

The Batman backpedaled, dodged some of Triphammer's blows, blocked the rest, and feinted as if to counterattack. When the Jokerz' enforcer fell for it, The Batman delivered several blows that jarred the big man. Then he grabbed him by the wrists, rolled backwards, and monkey-flipped him several paces away.

When The Batman got up, he saw that J-Man had grabbed Top Hat's device and was running for the edge of the roof. He whipped out his grapple gun and fired. The line wrapped itself around J-Man's ankles. He struggled uselessly as The Batman reeled him in like a fish on a hook.

J-Man blubbered as the Bat picked him up and lifted him off his feet. "Don't kill me, please! Don't kill me!"

Montoya burst onto the scene, riot gun drawn. "All right, freeze! Put him down and put your hands where I can see them!" She was walking towards The Batman and J-Man when Triphammer rose and grabbed her.

"All right, freak," Triphammer said, "put 'im down or I kill the girl."

J-Man looked at Triphammer. Then he looked at The Batman. A few moments later, he was on his feet. "Well," the Jokerz' leader said cockily, "looks like we've got the upper hand, Mr. Bat."

Triphammer went over to his fellow Joker, practically dragging Montoya along. "Come on, J-Man—let's get outta here. We take the cop along so this freak doesn't do anything—"

Without warning, The Batman picked up J-Man and threw him at Triphammer. Reflexively, the Jokerz' enforcer let go of Montoya to shield himself or attempt to catch J-Man. Montoya rolled out of the way as Triphammer stumbled and fell with J-Man on top of him. The big clown threw his leader off him and stood but something flew out of The Batman's hand and hit him right between the eyes, knocking him down again. J-Man tried to run but Montoya stopped him with a burst from Triphammer's discarded assault rifle.

"One more step and the next burst is going to be a little higher, clown," the detective warned him.

J-Man glanced at Montoya and then at The Batman. Sensing that resistance would be futile—not to mention potentially life-threatening—he raised his hands.

Montoya approached him, assault rifle still aimed at him. "On the ground, clown—now!" J-Man assumed a prone position, making sure she could see his hands. Montoya cuffed him. Then she turned towards The Batman. "Nice move," she complimented him, and then added: "You could've given me some warning, though."

"The element of surprise is an effective weapon," was The Batman's reply. He glanced down at the other Jokerz. "Need any help with them?"

Montoya shook her head. "I think you've done enough already. And thanks for saving my life."

For a moment, it seemed as if The Batman actually smiled at her but she couldn't tell. "You'll never have to thank me, detective." With that, he turned around and went over to the edge of the roof. For a moment, he stood there…then jumped. Montoya ran after him. He glided safely onto the nearest rooftop and vanished into the shadows.

The door to the roof opened behind her. Bullock, followed by Azeveda and Hartley, stepped out with their guns drawn.

"Montoya! What the hell happened here?" Bullock demanded.

She turned around, eyes alight, a smile on her face. "I saw him, sir. I can't believe it but I saw him."

"Who?" Azeveda asked, although one look at the Jokerz laid out on the roof was enough of a hint for him.

"The Batman," Montoya told them. "I saw The Batman. He saved my life."

"Is that right?" Hartley said. "Well, good for you. Looks like you owe him one, Montoya."

She nodded. "I guess I do."

"No, you don't," Bullock countered. "You're just damn lucky he was around to help you take out these clowns. But don't think you'll always have the Bat to watch over you, Montoya. Situations like these, you don't handle on your own—got that? You wait for your partner and you wait for backup. You could've gotten yourself killed if it wasn't for the Bat. And no self-respecting Gotham City cop should _ever_ depend on a damn _vigilante_ save their lives!" He went right up to his partner and looked her in the eye. "Don't you ever do anything this stupid again, got it, _detective_?"

Montoya flinched. This wasn't the first time she'd been on the receiving end of a lecture from Bullock but it was never a pleasant experience. And, she had to admit, he _was_ right. She'd been careless and she nearly died. It would be foolish on her part to assume that The Batman would there to rescue her every time she got into trouble.

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly. "I understand."

"Okay. Now call this in so we can all go home for the night." Bullock adjusted his hat. "I don't know about you but I could use a good night's sleep after all the trouble these clowns put us through all week."

As Montoya radioed in their status to Commissioner Gordon and Captain Sawyer, she walked over to Triphammer's inert form and saw something next to his head. She bent down to pick it up. It was a small disc, about half as big as a yoyo, but definitely more compact, more _solid_. No wonder it had knocked out the big clown.

She slipped it into her pocket. Maybe when she saw the Bat again, she could return it to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred Pennyworth opened the curtains to let in the late-morning sunlight. Bruce Wayne automatically rolled away from it when it struck his bed. "Alfred," he groaned from beneath a pillow, "it's the dead of night and I'm trying to get some sleep."

"On the contrary, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "It's already ten-thirty in the morning."

"Like I said, Alfred—it's the dead of night," Bruce retorted. He peered out from underneath his pillow. The sunlight made him wince.

"Come now, sir—you may be a bat but you're not a vampire bat," Alfred remarked dryly. "I've brought you breakfast and a somewhat abbreviated account of your exploits from last night." He held out a newspaper. Bruce took it and quickly found the article on the front page that detailed the arrest of the Jokerz.

Alfred poured a glass of juice and set it beside Bruce's plate. "A job well done, I take it, sir?"

"Well enough," Bruce said. "At least we won't have to deal with anyone trying to follow in the real Joker's footsteps for a while."

"There is that. Perhaps The Batman can take a momentary leave of absence." The Wayne family's longtime retainer went over to Bruce's wardrobe and began to sort through the items there. He laid out a change of clothes on the bed. "You're expected at the board meeting at Wayne Enterprises today. And Mr. Fox wants to speak with you afterwards, sir, regarding your newest armament."

"Looks like I'm back to being the billionaire wastrel," Bruce said with some amusement. He was starting to get the hang of playing the fool in front of people, he knew. It wasn't something that he liked to do but necessity called for such a tactic. Still, Bruce cringed whenever he read about his foibles and follies in Gotham's newspapers. The tabloids, in particular, liked to play up his ever-changing female companions whenever he was enjoying a night on the town, behaving like he owned the city. He remembered buying a hotel just to appease an irate maitre d' who didn't approve of the two models he was with swimming in their restaurant's decorative indoor pool…a memory which led to another, much sharper one: running into Rachel outside the hotel. The look on Rachel's face was one of disapproval…and worse: disappointment. It was the kind of look that made him want to explain that it was all an act but Rachel cut his protestations short with one simple statement: _"It's not who you are underneath, but what you __do__ that defines you." _

Alfred knew just by looking at his young master that he was thinking of Rachel again. She and her mother lived at Wayne Manor until the death of both Thomas and Martha Wayne. Mrs. Dawes was a pleasant woman who was as much a part of the Wayne family as he was; Rachel was undoubtedly Bruce's best friend during his childhood. Alfred had hopes once that she would be one of the anchors in his master's divided life. But now Rachel was gone, her life brutally ended at the hands of a madman.

Alfred left the master bedroom quietly, shutting the door behind him. Sometimes, it was best to let people grieve in their own fashion.

Talia saw the stoplight at the intersection turn red and decided to get out where she was. She paid her fare and disembarked from the taxi she'd taken from the house she was renting. Under other circumstances, there would've been a few servants to attend to her needs but her father taught her to be self-sufficient. In a way, she enjoyed the solitude.

As far as she could tell, her arrival in Gotham went unnoticed, even though she knew there were still several operatives of the League of Shadows in the city. If the need arose, she could summon them but she couldn't tell who among them were still loyal to her father. After his death, the League had splintered into several factions. One remained loyal to the memory and the ideals of Ra's al Ghul; the rest were now under control by some of her father's former lieutenants, who had their own agendas. She knew that, from his grave, Ra's al Ghul was most likely hurling curses at his former subordinates. Or perhaps not—her father was realistic enough to know that few men, if any, ever stayed truly loyal to anything.

Talia allowed herself to be carried along by the human tide around her. It was good to see that Gotham was bouncing back from the recent tragedies that had befallen it. There were still noticeable scars—she could see one or two buildings that were being demolished—but the spirit of the city was still alive. That, at least, was something to be thankful for.

She stopped at a newsstand and picked up a copy of the day's paper. She scanned the front page and stopped at one of the articles. "I thought The Joker had been arrested already?" she asked the newsstand's proprietor.

"Yeah, he was, ma'am," the man replied. "But there were some crazies who were trying to imitate him, you know. The cops nabbed them but we all know who helped them."

"Who was it, sir?" Talia wanted to know.

The proprietor smiled at Talia's politeness. "It was the Bat, of course. The cops couldn't have stopped them all. Everybody knows that the Bat was in on it."

"Forgive me," Talia said, affecting the mien of a typical tourist come to visit Gotham. "A bat helped the police? You mean…The Batman...?" Her voice dropped to an awed whisper.

"Yeah, that's him," the proprietor said with more than a touch of pride. "I don't care what the police say about him being a vigilante. He's a hero. Without him, the city would've fallen apart when that nut was blowing things up. I mean, I'm not knocking the cops—especially now we've got a new commissioner running things—but he's done about as much for Gotham as they have."

"Really? But isn't it…dangerous to have him around?" Talia asked.

"It was more dangerous when he wasn't around, ma'am," the proprietor said. "If he's dangerous, we'll live with it."

Talia nodded. "I see." She paid for the newspaper and left the newsstand. She could understand the proprietor's point of view but she didn't agree with it. Still, it was best to keep her opinion to herself, at least for now. There was no point in calling attention to herself.

She went down to the subway, hoping to catch a train that would take her near Gotham University. She always liked the gardens there. She hoped that they were still in good condition.

The meeting was quick, thankfully enough, and Bruce didn't sleep through it all. He actually listened to the presentations given by the various departments. He was most pleased to know that Wayne Foods was doing well in its campaign to introduce more organically-grown products to the market. He thought about the food he ate while training under Ra's al-Ghul. He and his fellow trainees helped grow the vegetables right on the grounds of the League of Shadows' monastery. The rice they ate came from the fields of the farmers that lived in the valley on the other side of the mountain where the League's stronghold was located. He knew how much better food tasted without additives.

"Taking an interest in our food production now, are you?" Lucius Fox asked as he and Bruce boarded one of the elevators.

"Food is a basic need, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "If we can increase its availability, we can keep more people from going hungry."

Lucius smiled. He could almost see where his boss' line of thought was heading. "You're thinking of reopening the food banks that your father started?"

"I don't see why not," Bruce replied. "See if Accounting can come up with cost projections and things like that. I'd also like to see if we can open up the charity kitchens that my mother used to oversee."

"I remember those," Lucius said appreciatively. "Did you know that I helped her run one of those kitchens?"

Bruce looked at his CEO. "You did?"

"Uh-huh. It was set up right in the neighborhood where I grew up, Mr. Wayne. I thought it would be a good way for me to give something back." Lucius took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. "Your mother insisted on working there at least once a week. Your father would go with her when he wasn't at those free clinics he ran.

"I remember going there after work. I was already an engineer at that time, helping set up what would be Applied Sciences. But I would have my arms in the dishwater along with your parents in that kitchen. Or I'd be serving supper to the people who went there—many of them neighbors of mine. They never forgot what your parents did, Mr. Wayne. I'm glad that you're thinking of restarting their work."

Bruce nodded. "If I want to fight crime, Mr. Fox, I have to do more than just dress up like a bat to do it."

Lucius smiled. "That is true, Mr. Wayne. And I think it would also help Alfred's peace of mind a great deal if you found some other means to carry out your crusade." They got off at Applied Sciences. "And speaking of which, how were those new items you tried out last night?"

"The throwing discs worked fine, Mr. Fox," Bruce replied. "Although I think…I may have dropped one."

"You dropped one?" Wayne Enterprises' CEO thought about that and shrugged. "No big loss. There were no particular markings that would allow anyone to trace them back to you or to Wayne Enterprises. But be more careful in the future, Mr. Wayne."

"The armor's holding up well," Bruce continued. "But just to be sure, I didn't let anyone get a shot at me."

"And how are your wheels holding up, Mr. Wayne?"

"They're holding up splendidly, Mr. Fox. I have to admit, I miss the car, though." He glanced down at some blueprints on a desk. What he saw more than piqued his curiosity. He held one up and asked: "What is this?"

Lucius walked over and saw what his employer held. "That? That was part of the same development program as the Tumbler's. It was supposed to be a prototype for a single-man combat helicopter with stealth technology." He picked up another blueprint. "And this one was a single-man stealth fighter. Unfortunately, just like the Tumbler, it was never put into full production."

"Full production?" Bruce looked at his CEO meaningfully.

"You'd have to earn a pilot's license first, Mr. Wayne," Lucius told him. "But both prototypes work. I'll show them to you sometime."

"I'd like that." Bruce smiled. "After all, bats are supposed to be able to fly, aren't they?"

"That they are, Mr. Wayne," his CEO agreed, and then added: "But they're supposed to be able to land safely too."

The gardens were better than she expected. Talia could almost imagine that she was in Kew Gardens, even if it was on a smaller scale. The landscaping was done with more than a professional touch; whoever paid for it surely picked the best people in the business.

Instinctively, she found her way to the library. Libraries were almost sacred places for her and she could never remember a time when she didn't enjoy being in one, no matter what the size. Her father, of course, encouraged her thirst for learning along with everything else he imparted to her. Her half-sister Nyssa, however, preferred more physical pursuits. Between the two of them, Nyssa was the better fighter but her father always reminded her that she had skills beyond hand-to-hand combat that were immensely useful in fulfilling his goals.

"Good morning," she said to the librarian at the desk. "Are non-students allowed to make use of your library?"

"Of course, ma'am," the librarian said. "I'll need an I.D., though." Talia handed over her driver's license. "You're from London, I see," the librarian commented. She handed Talia a visitor's pass. "I hope you find our collections to be worth your time."

"I'm sure I will," Talia said. "By the way, the landscaping around the campus is charming. May I ask who was in charge of the work?"

"It was a local company, ma'am—Danica Kirk & Associates," the librarian told her. "She was a student here and, in fact, many of our current students and faculty volunteered their time to help her complete her work."

"Well, they did a marvelous job," Talia commented.

"Oh, yes—and it was funded by our alumni. And by Bruce Wayne, of course."

Talia appeared puzzled. "He's not an alumnus?"

"Sadly, he didn't finish his studies here," the librarian said. "The death of his parents had to do with it, no doubt. But we're glad that he so generously donated to our funds." The librarian handed her a brochure, the kind that was given a prospective student. It had a map. "Several of the landmarks on campus were refurbished, thanks to Mr. Wayne. You might want to see them while you're here."

"I might," Talia said. "Thank you." She placed the brochure in her purse. Her first stop would be the bookshelves and then perhaps to the periodicals section.

Bruce and Lucius Fox were laying out the groundwork for their new corporate responsibility project when the phone on the desk rang.

Bruce picked it up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wayne, Katherine Kane is on Line Three," his CEO's secretary told him.

"Thank you, Ms. Harper," Bruce said. He pressed a button and Katherine's voice came over the receiver: "Bruce! Fancy that—you're at work today."

"And hello to you too, Kate," Bruce said with a smile. Katherine Kane was an old friend, her family being related to his to some degree on his mother's side, according to Alfred. They both attended Gotham University but the difference was that Katherine graduated from GU while Bruce found his learning elsewhere. "What is it I might be able to help you with?"

"Is Mr. Fox there, Bruce? Wait—of course, he is. Who else would run Wayne Enterprises?" Katherine laughed. "Put me on the speaker, Bruce. He's in on this anyway." Bruce did so. "Mr. Fox—are you busy, sir?"

"No, Ms. Kane," Lucius replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I'm just calling to remind you that you and your employer are invited to my party this evening," Katherine replied. "So please try to keep him from sneaking out to womanize like he always does when he clocks out of there ahead of everyone else."

"Of course, Ms. Kane," Bruce's CEO said, laughing. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"What's this party for again, Kate?" Bruce asked.

"It's to celebrate the re-opening of Gotham Mercy, of course," Katherine told him. "You do remember that I'm on the board, right?"

"That's nice of you but there's really no need to thank me this way—" Bruce started to say but Katherine cut him off with mock exasperation: "It's not for _you_, Bruce—at least, not just for you. It's for everyone who's worked to get the hospital going again."

"Oh, right—I'm just the guy who donated a new wing," Bruce retorted jokingly. He and Katherine shared a laugh. "I'll be there, Kate. Don't worry. I don't think I have anything on my calendar anyway."

"No date tonight?" Katherine exclaimed in surprise. "My, the planets must be in some kind of abnormal alignment. I'll see you two at the Marlinton this evening then."

"We'll be there, Ms. Kane," Lucius assured her. "Even if I have to lock Mr. Wayne in the trunk of his car to make sure that he'll grace your affair with his presence."

"Thank you, Mr. Fox. _Au revoir_, sir." With that, Katherine hung up.

"If something comes up, Mr. Wayne, I'm sure I can come up with a plausible alibi," Fox said, eyeing his employer.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "I'll attend Kate's party. After all, it's not everyday that I get the night off, do I?"

The CEO leaned back in his chair. "No Jokerz to chase down?"

"GCPD got them all," Bruce said. "Tonight The Batman can rest. Nothing seems to be on the horizon anyway."

Fox nodded. "Let's hope it stays that way for a while."

The memorial was simple: a plaque mounted on a marker crafted from marble (_Carrera marble, _Talia noted). It stood at the head of the path that wound through the gardens at the back of the library.

_Dedicated to the Memory of Martha Wayne_, the plaque read. Beneath that was the line _For whom the World was always a Beautiful Place and Worth Fighting For. _

Talia took out her digital camera and took a photo of the memorial. From her research in the library, the Wayne family was quite obviously an integral part of the fabric of Gotham. Thomas and Martha Wayne had literally given their lives for the city that they both loved. The articles she read in the periodicals section's archives were a testimony to the efforts both of them exerted in order to pull Gotham back from its slow decay. Wayne Enterprises was almost bankrupted because of Thomas Wayne's philanthropic activities. Fortunately, the arrival of Lucius Fox helped stem the company's losses. Together the two of them were able to put Wayne Enterprises into the black so that it could serve as a linchpin for the rebirth of Gotham. Half the company's earnings were funneled to various charities, trusts, and other ventures that allowed Gothamites to pull themselves up from poverty and regain their capacity to support themselves. More importantly, the beneficiaries of the Waynes' generosity were able to reclaim the dignity that had been stripped from them by their mean circumstances.

Little wonder then that her father wanted to indoctrinate Bruce Wayne and make him the spearhead of his ambition in this city. She found the remnants of his journals in the wreckage of the monastery and she still kept the few letters that he wrote her during that time. He thought highly of the heir to the Wayne fortune. Instead of some spoiled brat, her father found him to be highly intelligent and highly motivated—but lacking in direction. In other words, he was the perfect disciple for his teachings. And, to her own surprise as she read the few surviving pages of her father's journal, he actually managed to stay on at the monastery until he reached the final phase of his training.

Without doubt, however, Gotham's favorite son found her father's teachings too harsh—just as she did when she was in Bruce Wayne's position. From what she pieced together, he returned home after the destruction of the monastery but never applied what he learned. He appeared to be content to do the occasional act of charity from time to time while maintaining a lavish lifestyle. But Talia knew he could do more. And he could certainly be more of a positive force than The Batman.

As she walked down the path and let the gardens envelop her with their riot of color and of fragrance, Talia let her mind cast back to the memory of her own mother. She and her father met while he was in New York and had been married not long after that. Talia was born and grew up in one of upstate New York's largely rural areas. As a child, her father would be gone most of the time and so she grew very close to her mother. She was a caring woman, sweet in many ways and Talia adored her. But the loneliness she felt when her father would disappear for months at a time eventually drove her to seek refuge in the shelter of narcotics. During those times, her sorrow—and the addiction that it spawned—drove a wedge between her and her only child. When her father returned after yet another lengthy absence, Talia's mother was dead from an overdose. To his credit, her father handled the necessary duties without delegating them to a subordinate. After her mother was buried, he took Talia with him on his travels from that point onwards. She learned to accept his absences and developed a sense of independence that met his approval. Several years later, Talia met Nyssa and was actually happy to have a sister whose company she could share. But Nyssa was more like their father than she was. Her dedication to their father's principles and ideals was much deeper and much stronger than Talia's. In the end, that proved to be her undoing. Nyssa attempted to take control of the various factions of the League of Shadows but failed. Talia regretted with no small amount of sadness that she was unable to form a closer bond with her half-sister while she was alive.

She stopped underneath a Japanese maple tree that spread its branches over the garden path. A cool breeze sent some its leaves spiraling down towards her. Talia closed her eyes and opened her mind's eye. She saw her father, stern of face and of heart; her mother, caring but careworn; and Nyssa, with her heart of fire and ice. Talia embraced them all in her mind, knowing that she loved them all. But the path she chose was different, one that split from the central trunk and root that was her father much as the branches of the maple twisted away from the main body of the tree itself. And yet that did not stop them from being nourished by the tree.

_Foolishness,_ she could almost hear her father say. _Without the trunk and the root, the leaves wither off the branches and die. The branch breaks off and dies as well. Only those closest to the root and to the trunk survive. _

_True, father, _she conceded. _Those that grow farther from the trunk and the root die. But isn't that true of all things? And is death such an awful fate? _She opened her eyes and watched the leaves dancing in the breeze before settling on the ground. The leaves could not survive away from the branches, away from the tree. And yet in their death, they would nourish the tree. If the branches were to break, they would, in time, also become part of the earth from which the tree drew life.

_In time, we who grew away from you, father, will die as well. But death is only to be feared if one did not live—and if one's death does not bring life. _

From Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths came life for Gotham.

From her father's death came yet another chance for Gotham to live anew. This time, the city had to draw from its own strengths so that it could experience its rebirth. She saw the signs on her way here to the university. She saw more proof in her readings. Contrary to what her father believed, Gotham wasn't beyond saving. As Martha Wayne herself put it, it was still a beautiful place and worth fighting for each and every day.

But there was work to do, of course, and she felt that the key was Bruce Wayne. She looked around at the campus. This place was proof of his will, his desire to do as his parents once did. He was no wastrel, no dilettante. She had yet to meet him in person but her father was a good enough judge of character that she knew his confidence in Gotham's favorite son was not out of place. All he needed, yet again, was the proper guidance so that he could focus himself totally on the task at hand.

As she left the campus that afternoon, Talia knew that she had two missions. The most important one, to be sure, was to show Bruce Wayne how much good he could do for Gotham if he set his mind to it. As for the other one…_if_ she did the most crucial one properly, she knew that it would render the other mission inconsequential. But if it didn't quite work out that way, she was not above direct intervention in order to accomplish the task she'd set for herself. In that, she was like Nyssa and like her father. Everything that he ever taught them could be distilled into one statement—into the challenge that he held out to all those who became his disciples: _Are you ready to do all that is necessary?_

_From out of death, there can come new life_, she told herself. For the sake of Gotham, just as for the sake of several other cities, Talia knew that her answer to her father's challenge was yes.


	4. Chapter 4

The elevator hit bottom. Alfred raised the lever and the sliding door opened. He walked quietly down the passages leading to the cave's main chamber. There he found Bruce sitting in front of the computer console where he monitored Gotham.

"Master Bruce, I believe you have an engagement tonight," Alfred said as he approached his employer.

"I know, Alfred," Bruce replied. "I'm just making sure there's nothing going on that requires The Batman's attention." He switched the view on one of the monitors and homed in on one of the windows of GCPD Central. Commissioner Gordon was still at his desk, no doubt poring over the files that filled his inbox. Bruce wondered, not for the first time, how Gordon was able to maintain his marriage, considering how much time he spent on the job. It was a testament to his wife that she was willing to put up with so much, especially when Harvey Dent took her and their children hostage as revenge for what the unhinged D.A. believed was Gordon's complicity in Rachel's death.

"The commissioner seems to have things well in hand," Alfred commented. Like Bruce, he held Jim Gordon in high regard. The night his parents died, the commissioner—then a low-ranking policeman—comforted Bruce at Police Central while his parents lay in the morgue. When Alfred came to fetch him, he spoke long enough with Gordon to get the measure of the man. When Bruce embarked on his war against crime, he fully approved of his choosing Jim Gordon as an ally.

"I wonder how he does it, Alfred," Bruce said. "With so much going against him, how does he stay on the job?"

"He believes in what he does, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "In much the same way you do, obviously. It's a good thing the police department has him as their leader."

Bruce nodded. "I still remember that night…he was the only one who actually spoke with me. Commissioner Loeb…well, I guess he had a lot on his mind. But Gordon..." He fell silent for several moments. After a while, he got up from his chair. "Is Mr. Fox here yet?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes, sir," Alfred replied. "I suggest we meet him at the main entrance." They went over to another elevator that they'd installed themselves. Alfred pulled the lever and they ascended out of the cave. "The renovations went well, didn't they?" he remarked.

"Good thing the cave wasn't damaged when the Manor burned down," Bruce said. He looked down and wondered if there was enough space to house the aircraft he saw in Lucius Fox's blueprints. A helicopter would be useful for aerial pursuit, particularly in the city. A jet, on the other hand…he needed to think about that one. At the moment, he couldn't think of a situation that would warrant a single-man fighter aircraft.

Commissioner Gordon felt the cool night breeze blowing as he stood on the roof of Police Central. Beside him was the broken spotlight that he once used to alert The Batman. Now and again, he glanced at it, knowing that it was a symbol of the huge toll the war with The Joker had exacted from Gotham.

He heard the door to the roof open. "I figured I'd find you up here," Harvey Bullock said. He approached the commissioner and handed him a cup of coffee. "From here the city doesn't look so bad, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," the commissioner agreed. "It almost seems…peaceful. Too bad it can't be like that all the time."

"That's why we're here, sir," Renee Montoya spoke up. "That's our job." She stood just a little behind her partner, keeping a respectful distance from her superior.

"To protect and serve, huh, Montoya?" Bullock remarked with his usual cynical tone. "Just like they taught you at the Academy?"

"Yes, sir," she said, a little embarrassedly.

"That's what we were all taught, Harvey," Gordon said. He drank some of his coffee and frowned. The stuff from the vending machine was probably the worst he ever had; the fact that he was beginning to get used to it was probably a sign that he'd been on the job for too long.

"Where do you think he is?" Bullock asked after a while.

"Out there somewhere," Gordon said, scanning the city's skyline, hoping to catch a glimpse of a shadowy form in the shape of a bat, cutting through the night. "Keeping watch like he always does."

Bullock gave the spotlight a sidelong glance. He and the commissioner were the only ones who knew that the Bat still occasionally dropped in to discuss a case with them. That was what they did when the Jokerz had been running loose. The three of them put their heads together in order to coordinate the dragnet that had snared the entire gang. Of course, they had to keep things compartmentalized. After all, Gotham P.D. was supposed to be hunting down the Bat, even if some of its members—like Montoya, for example—thought that the Bat ought to be given a commendation. Personally, he thought the Bat was a loose cannon that might one day be aimed at Gotham. He knew the real Joker had played on that same idea, trying to force the population to fear the Bat and turn against him. In the end, The Joker's plan had failed—but that was something that he and the commissioner had to keep to themselves. If word got out that the Bat was still working with them, he knew that there were certain people in the department who would be up in arms over it. Michael Akins, the bureau chief, was one such person. It was no secret among the longtime vets of the force that he was eyeing the commissioner's position. Bullock considered Akins a halfway decent officer but he didn't much care for the man's ambition. Akins was always trying to curry favor with his higher-ups, particularly the mayor. His participation in the capture and arrest of The Joker was minimal since Gordon kept him out of the loop, not knowing if Akins could be fully trusted. Akins had complained to the mayor loudly when he discovered Gordon's plan after the fact and threatened to dismiss him from the force. The mayor, fully aware of the political repercussions of such an act, smoothed things over as best as he could between the two. Akins, however, was still upset that he was passed over for the commissioner's post by a subordinate.

"I wish I could see him again," Montoya said to herself.

Gordon looked at her. "I heard he saved your life, detective."

Montoya blushed upon realizing that the commissioner had heard her. Bullock threw her another of his disapproving scowls. "Uh, yes, sir," she said. "He did."

"I reprimanded her for it," Bullock added. "She was careless, plain and simple."

"You ought to know better than that, detective," Gordon admonished her gently.

"I know, sir," Montoya said. "No excuses."

"You'll learn," Gordon told her. "With Detective Bullock as your partner, I'm sure of that."

"Assuming she doesn't get herself killed the next time," Bullock said.

Gordon shrugged noncommittally. "That's part of your responsibility, detective. After all, she is your partner." He turned and headed back inside the building. Bullock and Montoya followed him.

Bruce was bored.

He was nursing his third glass of champagne, not wanting to get inebriated just in case he had to stay up late. Lucius Fox was speaking with some of the other board members of Gotham Mercy Hospital. He'd gotten up to the stage himself, delivered some rather simple remarks, and then ceded his position to the band. Now as the music was playing, he was thinking about calling Alfred to fetch him.

He used to enjoy parties but that was when his parents were still alive. After everything he'd been through since then, he no longer regarded social functions with as much delight as he used to. If it weren't for the fact that he had to keep up the billionaire-playboy cover, he would've preferred to go out on patrol. Sometimes he wondered whether or not it was a wise decision to return to Gotham as Bruce Wayne rather than as The Batman.

"Penny for your thoughts," someone said to him. He turned around and saw Katherine Kane standing behind him with a wry smile on her face.

"Hi, Kate," he said. "Great party you put together." He clinked his glass against hers and took a sip.

"Yeah, so great that you're already heading for the door," Katherine said, laughing softly.

Bruce tried his most charming smile on her. "I was just heading for the bathroom," he explained, wincing inwardly at the lameness of his excuse. "I think I've had too much champagne."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. Bruce immediately recognized it as a sign that she didn't believe a thing he said. "That's your third glass, Bruce," she commented. "You could hold more than that back when we were in college."

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago," Bruce told her. Katherine was sharp—almost as sharp as he was. She didn't miss much whenever a situation or an object held her interest. It was just his bad luck that he was in her sights at the moment. Then he softened: "Look, it's got nothing to do with you, Kate. And I'm glad to have helped with the hospital but it's just that…" He shrugged, not knowing how to go on. "I guess I'm not in a partying mood tonight."

Katherine touched his arm. "I understand. Truth be told, the Gotham social scene does get rather tiring after a while. Sometimes, I think I'm just keeping up a pretense, you know? My grandfather would tell me that I've got a name to uphold but I ask myself if mingling with people I'd much rather avoid is the best way to do that." She sighed. "But it does help get some good things done, like Mercy Hospital and Gotham General. Next week, it's back at full capacity. So that's what I tell myself: I'm doing some good here."

Bruce smiled. That was the same thing that Alfred told him now and again whenever he felt like declining what was supposed to be an important social occasion. _"Remember, Master Bruce,"_ Alfred would remind him,_ "just as you have your duties as The Batman, you also have your duties as the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne. You cannot afford to neglect either of those responsibilities."_

"But sometimes," Katherine continued, "I wonder what it would be like to be…oh…The Batman, you know? I bet he doesn't have to attend any cocktail parties. Or talk to some incredibly boring and shallow people."

"Well, he does wear a bat suit," Bruce joked, "so I don't really know if that's such a good ambition."

"Yeah," Katherine agreed. "What was that you said once? Oh, yeah: 'Someone who dresses up as a bat clearly has issues.'" She and Bruce shared a laugh. "I wouldn't be surprised if he wound up paying a visit to Arkham," he cracked.

"Not that Arkham would be able to keep him," Katherine observed. "I wonder where he goes during the day time."

"Probably to sleep in a cave with the rest of the bats," Bruce replied. They laughed together again. When their mirth had subsided, Katherine said: "Mr. Fox told me that you were thinking of opening up the Wayne Foundation's food banks and charity kitchens again."

Bruce nodded. "That's right. Accounting's going to give me their cost projections tomorrow so that we can see how much it will take to finance the operations. I want to keep them going at least until the end of the year. If Wayne Enterprises stays in the black and posts a healthy profit, I may look at some other projects that the Wayne Foundation can restart."

"That's a good plan, Bruce," Katherine said.

"I'll need your help, of course," Bruce said. "I don't think the Wayne Foundation can do this alone."

"You've got it," Katherine assured him. "When you and Mr. Fox put your plans down in black and white, let me see them. I might be able to offer a suggestion or two so that we can coordinate things." She smiled. "I remember the stories my grandfather used to tell me about how our family and yours kept this town afloat in hard times. Looks like things don't change, do they?"

"They do," Bruce said. "But sometimes, it takes people a while to do it."

Katherine nodded and then spotted someone across the room. She smiled and excused herself from Bruce's side. "Don't leave yet," she said. "I want you to meet someone."

"Don't tell me you're going to set me up with one of your friends again, Kate," Bruce told her with mock exasperation.

"Not this time, silly," Katherine replied. "I don't think she's your type anyway." She left Bruce's side and he took a short sip from his glass. Katherine's friends weren't bad and he did enjoy their company while he was seeing them. There was one he almost had a serious relationship with; she was a photojournalist for the _Gotham Gazette_. If his memory served him right, her name was Vicky Vale. She was attractive and intelligent—but she was also somewhat obsessed with obtaining exclusive photographs and, if possible, an interview with The Batman. For her own sake, Bruce eased her out of his life. She never did understand why he did that when she felt that they were getting along well enough; Bruce, however, couldn't afford to have her get too close to him, knowing that that she was smart enough that she might eventually learn about his dual life. He was grateful that she wasn't around taking pictures of the party for the _Gazette_.

He saw Katherine heading back with a young woman in tow. Bruce sighed; he hoped this time that Katherine's friend wasn't another reporter.

"Bruce," she said, smiling, "I'd like you to meet Talia Head."

For a moment, Bruce was taken aback but he managed to smile at the young woman and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, um, Miss Head," he told her.

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Talia replied. "Katherine has told me a lot about you."

"Not too much, I hope," Bruce said wryly. "Otherwise, I have a lot of explaining to do."

"Not at all," Talia assured him. "What she's told me does you and your family credit."

Bruce looked at Katherine and shrugged. "If that's the case, I'm glad."

"Talia's been an associate of mine for a while," Katherine said. "She's a lobbyist by profession."

"A lobbyist, huh?" Bruce said. "Some job that must be."

"Personally, I don't like to use the term 'lobbyist', Mr. Wayne," Talia corrected him. "I prefer to be called a corporate activist."

Bruce looked her in the eye. "Which is just the same thing, isn't it?" he asked.

"I suppose," Talia admitted. "It doesn't matter what I'm called, in any case, as long as I do my work well."

"And what work might that be?" Bruce wanted to know.

"I try to remind businesses that they have a responsibility to the rest of the world, Mr. Wayne," Talia told him. "I and my colleagues want to make sure that they're not motivated _solely_ by profit. I know it's impossible to make corporations turn their attention away from the bottom line but it's not impossible to make sure that the bottom line isn't maintained at the expense of everything else." Then she realized that she had, perhaps, said a bit too much. "Sorry—I made a speech," Talia said. "I hope I didn't offend you."

Bruce looked around and saw that Katherine had conveniently disappeared. _As if that was a surprise,_ he said to himself. This was the same thing she did when she introduced him to Vicky. "You didn't, Miss Head," he started to say but she cut him off: "Please—call me Talia. Not that I mind my surname but, well…I heard enough jokes about it when I was in school."

Bruce laughed. "I know what that's like. Some of the people I went to school with used to think that I had the teachers bought and paid for. And just to be fair, please call me Bruce, Talia."

Talia smiled at him and Bruce had to admit that it was a lovely smile. "All right…Bruce." At that moment, she also noticed that Katherine was nowhere nearby. "I see we've been left to ourselves."

"Kate does that," Bruce said. "I hope you don't mind if I keep you company until she returns."

Talia smiled again and said: "Not at all." Bruce waved over a waiter and got a glass of champagne for her. "So," he said, "I take it you're not from Gotham."

"No," Talia said. "I was born in New York. I spent a good part of my life there."

"You have a bit of an accent," Bruce noted. "Did you live in London?"

"That's very observant of you, Bruce. I did live in England for a time—London, Manchester, and Leeds. I was able to see a great deal of the United Kingdom, in fact."

"Was it business, study, or pleasure?" Bruce asked.

"I'd have to say a combination of all three," Talia answered. "I worked with the Hansard Society and some of my colleagues steered me towards other activities in Ireland and Scotland. I helped some of the local non-government organizations with their campaigns. It was an excellent learning experience."

"Was it? Tell me more," Bruce was saying when he heard someone call his name. He turned and saw a familiar face. It was William Earle, the former CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

"Hello, Bruce," Earle said, shaking hands with him. "Good to see you again."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Earle," Bruce said. "It's good to see you too. What have you been doing lately?"

"You mean since you fired me?" Earle joked. Talia, however, sensed a bitter edge to the man's tone. "I found another job so I didn't have to cash in that golden parachute you gave me."

"Did you? Which company, Mr. Earle?" Bruce asked.

"He's with us now, Bruce," another man said, approaching them. Bruce recognized him immediately: Warren Powers, owner and president of Powers Technology Unlimited. "I hired William immediately when I found out he was available. I can't understand for the life of me why you let a brilliant man leave Wayne Enterprises. But then, your loss is my gain, isn't it?"

Bruce nodded noncommittally. "I suppose. How's Derek?" Derek Powers and Bruce were alike in that they were both the heirs to their respective families' fortunes. The younger Powers attended Gotham University along with Bruce—they were, in fact, in the same class. From what he heard, Derek was already working at Powers Technology as his father's assistant.

"He's doing well," Powers said. "He was surprised that you were able to take control of Wayne Enterprises and he certainly is looking forward to doing the same at our company. He believes he can do a better job at Powers Technology than you can at Wayne Enterprises."

"Maybe he can," Bruce said. Derek Powers was the competitive type who didn't like to lose to anyone, be it in academics, athletics, or any other field. Bruce thought that Derek most likely still bore a grudge against him for the times he outdid him back at Gotham University.

"With all due respect, Mr. Powers—a better job at what?" Talia interjected. "Making weapons of mass destruction?"

Powers looked at Talia, bemused. "I don't believe we've been introduced, young lady…"

"This is Talia Head," Bruce said, putting an arm around her slightly. "She's a friend of Katherine's."

"I see." Powers looked at her. "Miss Head," he said and both Bruce and Talia could see that he was just a shade away from laughing at her surname, "my company develops technology for a wide variety of applications. The military is just one of our many clients—"

"Mr. Powers," Talia said, "in the past six years, the Department Of Defense has been your primary or, to be more precise, your _sole_ client. You've developed no less than seventeen types of missile systems that were specifically designed to use NBC payloads. Five of those systems are man-portable and can be operated by a single individual. Those man-portable missile systems were recently tested in actual combat conditions in Afghanistan, resulting in the destruction of civilian areas in Herat, Badghis, and Kandahar."

"Those were officially sanctioned operations, young lady," Powers countered. "Those missile systems were used against known insurgent strongholds. The civilian casualties are regrettable but they're—"

"Collateral damage, sir?" Talia said. "Is that what you wanted to call people killed by your weapons?" The look on Powers' face was equal parts humiliation, rage, and bullish hate. "What's regrettable is that you put your weapons in the hands of warlords who don't consider themselves party to the Geneva Convention. The payloads for the missiles they used _were _mostly high explosive—but one of the warlords working for the international security forces apparently had a cache of Soviet-era chemical weapons left over from the Russian occupation and he used them for his troops' missiles. Those chemical weapons were still effective enough to cause the deaths of no less than fifty-eight civilians, most of whom were women and children, in case you didn't know, sir."

"That's a lie," Powers snarled, barely restraining himself. "You bleeding hearts always think that you're smarter than everyone else…what makes you think you're any better than we are?"

"We bleeding hearts don't use chemical weapons against civilians, sir," Talia said. "I suppose that gives us some moral authority."

Powers looked as if he wanted to hit Talia for her insolence. Bruce quietly stepped forward, ready to act in Talia's defense. Earle, however, interceded smoothly: "Young lady, the military are our biggest clients and if our systems were used inappropriately, perhaps you might have proof that we can use so that those responsible for such a reprehensible act can be held accountable."

"I'll send them over to you first thing in the morning, Mr. Earle," Talia said. "There's quite an extensive record of them compiled at the offices of Humanity."

"Ah, yes—our friends in the human rights field," Earle said. "I'll expect to see those documents tomorrow then. And, if it's not inappropriate as well, I'd like to invite you and Bruce to come to a demonstration of one of our latest products. We'll be holding it this week, about two days from now."

"What might that be, Mr. Earle?" Bruce asked.

Earle smiled enigmatically. "You'll see. And I think you'll be pleased to know that we're developing it for use by law enforcement agencies around the country."

"Really? Well, perhaps I'll be there. I'd like to see what this product is."

"I'll send your invitation to your secretary. Is it still Jessica?"

Bruce nodded. "She's a rather efficient assistant."

"That she was," Earle agreed. "I'll send two invitations—one for you and one for Lucius. And if your friend wants to come along, then bring her with you by all means."

"I'm sure Mr. Fox and I will be there. I can't speak for Miss Head, though."

Earle shrugged. "That's quite all right. We'll be expecting you and Lucius, Bruce." Bruce shook hands with his former CEO and with Powers. The two then left, with Powers throwing a backwards glare at Talia.

"Well, that went over well." Katherine rejoined Bruce and Talia once Bruce's former employee and his new boss were a good distance away.

"Where were you?" Bruce wanted to know.

"Speaking with Mr. Fox about your project," Katherine replied. "I caught the tail end of Talia's debate with Powers."

"What was Mr. Powers doing here, Katherine?" Talia asked.

"He's on the board for Gotham Mercy and Gotham General," Katherine said. "A man in his position can certainly afford to be generous with his time and money."

"That depends on how he earns his money," Talia pointed out to her.

"True," Katherine conceded. "But his company also helped develop some of the equipment being used at Gotham Mercy and Gotham General. Both hospitals now have new equipment for testing patients, diagnosing illnesses, and performing lifesaving procedures because of him. Wayne Medical can't do it alone, you know."

"Then you should step up, Katherine," Talia reminded her. "Gotham's medical institutions shouldn't have to rely on people like Powers to do their work."

"No, they shouldn't," Bruce said. "But the hard reality is that they do. Wayne Enterprises let go of all its military contracts pertaining to weapons manufacture so that cut into our profits, although I don't regret it one bit. But I'm sure we can find other revenue streams since Wayne Aerospace and Wayne Technology have recently signed contracts with NASA and STAR Labs."

"That's good," Talia said. "I'm sure your company can find better things to do with its resources than to build arms."

"Well, we're trying," Bruce said. He saw Lucius Fox standing within earshot of their conversation. "Aren't we, Mr. Fox?"

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," Lucius said. "I hope your little encounter with William Earle and Warren Powers hasn't ruined your night, young lady. I'm Lucius Fox. I work for Mr. Wayne."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fox," Talia said. "My night isn't ruined but I certainly feel like being elsewhere at the moment so I can take a breather. I've made a bit too many speeches tonight, I'm afraid." She grinned self-deprecatingly.

"If that's the case," Katherine said, "I'm sure Bruce can accompany you wherever you want to go."

"Yes, I'm sure he would," Lucius added with a smile. "Gotham is a much safer place but a young lady such as yourself shouldn't go out alone at this time of night."

"I'd be grateful for the company," Talia said. "But only if Bruce doesn't mind."

"I'm sure he doesn't," Katherine assured her. "Right, Bruce?"

Bruce was about to object to being railroaded out of the party but decided not to; Kate and Mr. Fox were giving him a way out and, truth be told, he rather wanted to spend time in Talia's company. Finally he said: "All right. But if I take the car, how will you get home, Mr. Fox?"

"I'll take care of that," Katherine told him. "Now get out of here. You've had enough champagne anyway. Go get some fresh air."

"I'll see you at the office tomorrow, Mr. Wayne," Lucius said. "But there's no need for you to arrive too early. I'll work out the financial aspects of our project with the Finance department and have the figures ready when you arrive."

"All right, sir." Bruce shook hands with his CEO. "I'll be in at around the same time." He gave Katherine a kiss on the cheek. "Nice party, Kate."

"Thank you, Bruce," Katherine said. "For helping Gotham Mercy out and for coming over tonight."

"Make sure the young lady arrives home safely," Lucius reminded him.

"I will, sir," Bruce said. He turned to Talia. "Shall we go?"

"Ready when you are, Bruce." She put an arm around his. Bruce sent a text message to his chauffeur to bring the Rolls Royce around. The car was just pulling up when they walked out of the Marlinton's front entrance. Bruce helped Talia into the back seat and then joined her.

"Think they'll be all right?" Lucius asked Katherine back at the Marlinton's ballroom.

"I think so, Mr. Fox," Katherine said. "In fact, I think they'll do better than all right."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Two**

Bruce woke up just as the horizon was starting to brighten with the first touch of dawn. He lay in his bed for a few more minutes and then rose. He changed into his track suit and let himself out of Wayne Manor as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, although he knew that Alfred was likely awake already himself. He stretched before setting out for the path that led to one of the roads at the back of the mansion. The morning air felt clean and fresh and a cool breeze was blowing lightly. He started out slow and eased into the simple rhythm of his feet carrying him across the ground.

Bruce let his mind wander freely, although he maintained an awareness of his surroundings. Briefly, he wondered if he should call Talia to see if she got home all right—and then realized that he dropped her off at her house.

Bruce slowed down to a brisk walking pace and thought back to last night. After leaving the party, Bruce asked if Talia wanted him to bring her home. She declined and asked if it would be possible to perhaps take a walk. So they wound up at the Gotham University Gardens.

"Do you like this place, Bruce?" Talia asked as they walked down the flagstone path.

"To be honest, I haven't been here since the dedication ceremony," Bruce admitted. "But I'm glad the university's keeping it in good shape, considering how much I chipped in for the landscaping." He laughed.

"I think it's wonderful that you gave your alma mater something this beautiful," Talia remarked.

Bruce shrugged. "Well, they deserve something for putting up with me while I was here. It was the least I could do."

After a while, they sat on one of the benches, near a reflecting pool. "I hope I'm not boring you," Bruce said.

"I was going to say that," Talia said with a smile. "Sometimes I'm not as talkative when I'm not debating someone." She looked around for a few moments and then said: "This place reminds me of all the parks I've been to. And it reminds me of home."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Bruce told her. "Gotham can be a hard place sometimes."

"What makes you say that?" Talia asked. Instantly, she regretted it: "I'm sorry—I know you lost your parents here…"

An awkward silence fell between them. Several long moments later, Bruce spoke: "Someone told me once that my anger over my parents' death would strangle my grief…until their memory was just like poison in my veins. And then there would come a time when I would find myself wishing that they never existed so that I would have been spared their pain." He turned towards the reflecting pool and it seemed as if he could almost see Thomas and Martha Wayne as they were getting ready to leave for the opera on that fateful night. Was it just his imagination or was that sorrow and maybe even grief in their faces for what he'd become? A leaf fell on the water and their images—if they had been there at all—disappeared. Talia got up from the bench and went over to him, touching his arm gently. He looked at her and said: "But I'm not angry over their death anymore…and if I wish anything…" He grew thoughtful, weighing his words and choosing them carefully. "Gotham _has_ changed," he finally said. "It's becoming a better place, no matter how slow…and I wish that they were here to see how the people of Gotham have honored their sacrifice."

"That includes you, Bruce," Talia told him gently. "You're doing your share to rebuild Gotham too. Don't sell yourself short. You're doing good work here. These gardens are just one of the contributions you've made to Gotham. I'm sure there's more you've done and more you'll do in the future."

"Sometimes, though, I wonder if it's enough," Bruce said. "I wonder if it's ever enough."

"As long as it helps people, it's enough," Talia said. Her hand found his and squeezed it gently. "You have to believe that."

Bruce nodded. "I suppose it is," he said and smiled at her. He looked at his watch. "What time is it? I'm afraid I have to be at work early tomorrow. I hope you don't mind if I cut our evening short."

"Of course not," Talia said. "It's past my bedtime anyway. Would you drop me off at my place, Bruce?"

"Sure," Bruce said. "It's no problem, Talia." They returned to the parking lot in front of the university where the limousine was waiting. When the limousine arrived at Talia's house, Bruce walked her to her front door.

"I had a lovely time at the university, Bruce," Talia told him.

"I'm glad you did," Bruce said. "And thank you for the encouragement."

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Bruce. Drive safely, all right?"

Bruce nodded. "I'll see you again, I hope."

"I'm sure we'll run into each other," Talia said, laughing, "if Katherine has anything to say about it."

"I'm sure we will." He waved goodbye to her and went back to the limo. Talia watched as he drove away until the Rolls Royce turned a corner. Only then did she go inside her house.

The memory remained with Bruce as he resumed his run. He smiled, amazed at how easily Talia had caught his interest. He hoped that he would see her again. Perhaps a phone call wasn't such a bad idea.

When he returned to the mansion, Alfred was waiting for him at the main entrance. He held the door open for him. "You're up early, Master Bruce," he observed, handing Bruce a towel.

Bruce thanked him and began wiping the sweat from his face. "I've got a meeting with Mr. Fox this morning, Alfred. I decided to go for a run before I went to Wayne Enterprises."

"Ah," Alfred said. "Breakfast will be ready in a moment, sir."

"I'll take it in the kitchen, Alfred," Bruce said. Alfred nodded and led the way. Since Wayne Manor's reconstruction, the two of them had gone back to eating in the kitchen they way they did after Bruce returned to Gotham. The day's newspapers were waiting next to Bruce's dish.

Alfred poured him a glass of juice. "I take it this meeting has something to do with the charity work that Wayne Enterprises will be undertaking in the near future, Master Bruce?"

"Did Kate call while I was out?" Bruce asked, taking a sip of his green tea.

"She did, sir," Alfred replied. "She asked if you arrived home safely last night. I told her that you did. By the tone of her voice, she seemed happy about last night's party." The tone in his voice made Bruce wonder if Katherine had mentioned anything about Talia. He decided to be up front about it: "I enjoyed myself. And I enjoyed her friend's company."

"She did ask about that," was Alfred's only comment. Then he changed topics: "Finish your meal, sir. I'll have your wardrobe ready." He left his employer in the kitchen and went up to the master bedroom. He approved of Katherine Kane's attempts to find a suitable female companion for Bruce since it provided him with an opportunity to step out of his identity as The Batman for a time. But Katherine wasn't really all that successful; Vicky Vale came closest to becoming something of a permanent fixture in Bruce's life but her obsession with his master's alter ego nearly became a sore point between them. He understood perfectly why Bruce had to break up with her but still wished that it had not been so.

Bruce read through the newspapers leisurely as he finished off the perfectly cubed melon that Alfred prepared for him. He was pleased to see that Wayne Enterprises was still holding on to a considerable profit margin despite having divested themselves of their military contracts. Perhaps they didn't need to do that entirely; there were, after all, other materials that the military required that weren't used to kill people. Perhaps Wayne Enterprises could provide those instead of munitions and ordnance. Let William Earle and Warren Powers take care of that aspect since they seemed to like it so much.

He thought back to his meeting with his former CEO. He didn't think that he'd see him again but, considering the small circles in which he moved as Bruce Wayne, he figured it was probably inevitable. And working for Powers was right up Earle's alley. His father used to tell him how Powers was once a partner of his when Wayne Enterprises was just getting started. "He was a good businessman," his father said. "He was better than me and Lucius, in fact. But once he had his eye fixed on the bottom line, it kind of got stuck there."

From what he knew, Powers Technology Unlimited had a slight edge against Wayne Enterprises in terms of profitability. Would it be possible for Wayne Enterprises to take the lead away from Powers Technology? He supposed it was; given that he had a more than capable CEO running the company, Wayne Enterprises could conceivably beat its rival.

_Does Kate think like this?_ he wondered. On the heels of that, he thought of what Talia might say. Most likely she'd tell him that getting into a contest with Powers to see who made more money was pointless and, ultimately, meaningless. What mattered was what he did with the profits that Wayne Enterprises earned. William Earle, he knew, cut back or completely eliminated a large part of the public-service projects that his father started and supported using company funds. His former CEO kept only those projects with the most public-relations mileage to show that Wayne Enterprises was a responsible corporation. Without a doubt, Bruce knew that Talia would've called that a sham.

By nine in the morning, Bruce was in Lucius Fox's office at Wayne Enterprises. The two of them went to the conference room to watch as Finance presented the cost projections they had come up with for Bruce's idea. Instead of sleeping through the meeting, he asked his accountants and planners some questions that he had thought up on the way to work. Lucius watched and smiled, pleased that his boss seemed to be real serious about pushing through with their project. Finance gave honest answers and suggestions as to how to cut some costs and keep the project going without sacrificing the company's fiscal solvency. Bruce took note of it and thanked them after the presentation.

They went back to the CEO's office and reviewed their documents and notes. Bruce was hardly aware of the time and was more than a little surprised when Lucius' secretary buzzed them over the intercom to inform them that their lunch was on its way.

"Lunch?" Bruce asked.

"Katherine Kane called, Mr. Wayne," Jessica Harper replied. "I informed her that you and Mr. Fox were in a meeting and she said not to disturb you. She also said that she would be having your lunch delivered."

"Well…get her on the phone if she's in her office, please," Bruce said. He turned towards Lucius. "I didn't know it was that late already."

"How could you?" Lucius asked. "You were wrapped up in your work."

Bruce shrugged. "I guess I was. Alfred said I have a tendency to do that."

"I know," Lucius said. "I've seen how wrapped up you can be in your…_other_ job."

"I'll be able to concentrate on this job for now, Mr. Fox," Bruce told him. "I don't think I need to stay up late for a while."

The intercom chimed discreetly. "Mr. Wayne?" Jessica said, "I have Ms. Kane on the line."

"Thank you, Jessica." Bruce pressed the speaker button on Lucius' phone. "Hello, Kate."

"Hello, Bruce," Katherine said. Bruce could hear seabirds and ships' horns in the background. "Are you taking a cruise or something?" he asked. "You sound like you're on a boat."

"No, I'm at the docks," Katherine told him. "I'm checking on the medical supplies that are coming in today."

Bruce looked puzzled. "Medical supplies for Gotham Mercy?"

"Some of it will go to Gotham Mercy, some to Gotham General. The rest of it will go to the free clinics that you're going to be opening soon."

"That's nice of you, Kate, but I'm not even sure if we can start the clinics up yet."

"I told you I want to help, Bruce," Katherine told him. "And I will. While you and Mr. Fox lay the groundwork for the food banks and the charity kitchens, I'll start up the clinics through HOPE WORKS." HOPE WORKS was the organization that Katherine set up while they were still in college in memory of her own mother. During summers, HOPE WORKS gave jobs to Gotham's unemployed and put them to work helping others like them who were in need. Among their projects were low-cost housing that replaced the unsafe tenements that made up a good part of the city's neighborhoods, volunteer kitchens, and free clinics. Katherine initially used her own inheritance to fund HOPE WORKS. Upon determining that her granddaughter was perfectly willing to continue her work using her own talents and resources, her grandfather then told her during her graduation party that she would be able to call upon Kane Global Holdings and the rest of her family's fortune when needed. Since then, HOPE WORKS had been working hand-in-hand with the Wayne Foundation, among other institutions, to keep Gotham afloat in times of hardship.

"Kate, you're something else," Bruce started to say but Jessica broke into their conversation by entering the room. "Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox—your lunch is here," she announced.

"I'll handle it," Lucius said, getting up from his chair, but Katherine said: "It's taken care of, Mr. Fox. Consider it my treat for getting Bruce to the office early."

"Oh, so that's it, is it?" Bruce said in mock irritation. "That's all this was all about?" Someone set a paper bag near his elbow. He turned around to thank whoever it was—and saw that it was Talia. She was wearing more casual clothes than last he saw her. She looked like one of the downtown delicatessens' delivery personnel.

"I take it your lunch has arrived," Katherine said over the speaker. "Well, _bon appétit_ to you and Mr. Fox, Bruce. Enjoy yourselves." She laughed as she turned off her phone.

"Hello, Bruce," Talia said, taking off the cap she wore. "I hope you don't mind Katherine sending me here with lunch. And I hope you don't mind if I join you."

"Not at all," Lucius said. "Talia, isn't it?" He got up and made space at a spare table.

"Yes, sir," Talia said. Bruce helped carry their food to the table. As they ate, Lucius asked: "So what else brings you here today, Talia? It can't just be to make sure that Bruce eats something while he's at work."

Talia wiped her lips with a napkin before answering: "Actually, Katherine told me that you and Bruce were working on a corporate project that I might be able to help with."

"Maybe so," Lucius agreed. "I'll show you what we've got after we eat. You might find it interesting."

"I assume I will," Talia said. She looked over at Bruce. "I hope you don't mind that most of the cuisine is vegetarian."

"Not at all," Bruce said. "When I was a kid, I might've complained but I've come to see the benefits of a vegetarian diet, at least some of the time."

"That's good," Talia remarked. "Too much steak is bad for you."

When they were done eating, Lucius handed Talia some of the documents he and Bruce had been poring through. She spent the rest of the afternoon with them as they worked out a feasible plan that would allow the project to be realized. It was early evening when they finished.

"That went faster than I thought," Lucius remarked as he put their plan into a folder.

"That's because we had help," Bruce said. "Tell you what—dinner's on me. Think of it as a celebration of sorts."

"I'd love to, Bruce, but I promised my wife I'd be home for dinner." Lucius looked at Talia and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Besides, Talia did most of the work. Why don't you take her to dinner as a reward?"

"You're right, Mr. Fox," Bruce agreed. "Seeing as how we can't pay her a consultant's fee, dinner will have to do."

"Nowhere fancy, I hope," Talia said. "I'm not dressed for it." She tied her jacket around her waist as if to emphasize her statement. To both Bruce and Lucius, she looked like one of their employees' daughters who somehow found her way into the CEO's office during Bring Your Child To Work Day.

"Oh, I'm sure I can find us a place to go," Bruce said with a smile.

While Bruce and Talia were leaving Wayne Enterprises, Katherine was still in her office at HOPE WORKS. She had a folder in front of her with the cargo manifest for the ship that she met at the docks. "The cargo arrived on time and in the exact quantity stated on the manifest, Mr. Northland."

The image on her PC flickered slightly and then Gareth Northland, president of GreenStar Life Sciences, spoke: "Good to hear that, Katherine. I must apologize, though, if we weren't able to provide as much of the drugs that you specifically requested."

"It's all right, Mr. Northland," Katherine assured him. "I'm grateful that you were able to provide any at all since I know that the development of the drugs I asked for is still slow."

Northland nodded. "That's true, although we've been making some progress at our laboratories here. But I must say that developing new therapies for drug-resistant infections is still a rather complicated process. Thank goodness your grandfather believes in us enough to continue to finance our research."

"He should know more than anyone else how dedicated you are to your work, Mr. Northland," Katherine said with a laugh. "After all, your father was his physician while he was in England."

"That's true," Northland agreed. "Might I ask though: why did you find it necessary to order the drugs you requested from us? I thought that you had a local firm who was already supplying your hospitals with those drugs?"

"You mean Daggett BioIndustries?" Katherine frowned. "I was hoping they could provide what I needed but apparently their inventory hasn't been replenished. Or so they told me."

Northland caught the tone of Katherine's voice even over the digital connection. "You suspect otherwise, Katherine?"

Katherine thought about it and then said: "I might. I may have to dig a little deeper, though."

"Pardon me for saying this but you sound like your grandmother," Northland observed. "And your mother, if I'm not mistaken."

"Do I?" Katherine smiled. "I suppose I inherited more than my looks from them—at least that's what Grandfather always says."

"And he's right," Northland told her. "If that's all, Katherine, I need to see to an experiment we're running at one of the labs."

"All right, Mr. Northland," Katherine said. "And thank you once more for your help."

Northland shrugged self-deprecatingly. "It was a pleasure to help, Katherine." With that, he cut the connection between his office and Katherine's. She sat there for a while, idly skimming the cargo manifest. Her mind, though, was on Daggett BioIndustries. She supposed it _was_ possible that they were able to move their newest medicine for drug-resistant bacterial infection quicker than expected; after all, antibiotic-resistant organisms were on the rise worldwide.

Well, the first step was easy to take, wasn't it? All she had to do was call Gotham Mercy, Gotham General, and a few other hospitals to find out if they had the drugs in stock.

"Ms. Kane?" someone called from the door. She turned and saw Selina Kyle, her assistant. "Hello, Selina—on your way home?" Katherine asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Selina said. "But if you still need me for anything—"

Katherine smiled. "No need, Selina. I'll close up shop before I go."

"All right, ma'am," Selina said. "I'll be in tomorrow at eight, as usual."

Katherine nodded. "Get some sleep tonight. We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"In that case, I'll be in at seven, ma'am," Selina corrected herself.

"No need. Eight will do." Katherine got up from her chair and went over to the window near her desk. She looked down at the streets and saw people on their way home from work to spend the rest of the evening with their families or loved ones. Selina quietly joined her. "The end of another day," she remarked.

"Uh-huh," Katherine agreed. "How's Maggie?"

"She's fine, ma'am," Selina replied. "Two more years and she's in medical school. After that, she can't wait to work for HOPE WORKS fulltime."

"That's good," Katherine told her. "You know—if you want, you can go to university just like her."

Selina shrugged. "I'd love to, ma'am, and I'm grateful for the scholarship that you helped get for Maggie but I'm not really college material." There was no self-pity in her words, just a straightforward admission of facts. "Besides, there's a lot to do here. And I prefer to learn by experience more than anything else."

Katherine looked at her assistant. Selina had pulled herself and her sister up by the bootstraps out of one of Gotham's worst slums. It was unavoidable that she had to do some rather unsavory things in the process. By her own admission, she was a former car thief and burglar; when she couldn't steal anything, she sold herself on the streets. She had a pimp but when that piece of human trash tried to recruit Maggie, Selina left him—or tried to. The pimp had her and her sister kidnapped by his thugs and abused Selina, torturing her with the thought that Maggie would be next. Fortunately, they were rescued by The Batman, who was helping Commissioner Gordon shut down a child-trafficking ring. Katherine eventually took Selina under her wing and she had been working as Katherine's assistant for almost three years now. Her street smarts—tempered by her compassion—made her an invaluable asset to HOPE WORKS. She was almost single-handedly responsible for organizing most of Gotham's inner-city communities—particularly those in her old neighborhood—and helping them to take advantage of the opportunities HOPE WORKS offered.

"Well, I have to admit—you do more work than even I do," Katherine said, smiling.

"I have a lot to make up for, ma'am," Selina said, almost to herself.

"I think you've done that and more, Selina," Katherine told her. "You really should take some time off for yourself and for Maggie. Tell you what—when we're done setting up the first clinic, why don't you and Maggie take a vacation?"

"A vacation, ma'am?" Selina thought about it. "That would be nice, I guess. I suppose with Thanksgiving not so far away, Maggie will have a break from class."

"You two are invited to my house for Thanksgiving, of course," Katherine said.

"I'd like that," Selina said. "I'm sure Maggie would love to go too." Selina thought back to when they were still eating Thanksgiving dinner either at a shelter or in whatever fleapit served them as an apartment. For Maggie, though, the best part of Thanksgiving was always the simple joy of the two of them spending it together, even though they didn't have much back then. Selina had promised herself that she would do whatever it took to give her sister a _real_ Thanksgiving. And now with Ms. Kane's help, she had. During the past two Thanksgiving Days, Selina truly was grateful for the blessings that came their way. Her wish was that it would last forever.

Katherine interrupted her reverie by asking: "Shouldn't you be getting home? You'll be late for dinner."

"Oh, you're right, ma'am." Selina snapped back to the present. "Good night, Ms. Kane."

"Good night, Selina," Katherine said. She watched as the young woman left her office and stood by the window to make sure she was on her way. When she was alone, Katherine sat down at her desk and re-read the cargo manifest, along with a few other documents that she'd gathered during the afternoon. There was something puzzling her and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. Briefly, she wondered if she could ask Bruce to help but decided not to. No doubt he was with Talia and, the more time they spent together, the better it would be for him. Even if Talia would never be a replacement for Rachel, her company would probably keep him from brooding over her death. Bad enough that he was still living with his parents' death—although, with Alfred's help, she knew he was coping—but what happened to Rachel…that had to have been especially painful. His desire to help rebuild Gotham was undoubtedly a way to ease that pain. And so she wanted to help him in any way she could. Starting the free clinics was one way she could do that. And as for Talia, well, Katherine was certain that she would be able to help Bruce in her own way.

The phone on her desk rang. Katherine put down the documents and answered it. Pretty soon, she was taking notes while listening to her caller. There was a mystery that was unfolding before her and it piqued her curiosity.


	6. Chapter 6

Selina arrived home to find Maggie in the kitchen, making dinner. "Hey, sis—that's my job, remember?" she asked.

Maggie smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Well, I got home early so I decided to make dinner myself. I hope you don't mind tuna casserole."

Selina peered into the baking dish she'd taken out of the oven. "It smells good to me, Mags." Then she noticed the empty tuna cans on the counter near the sink. "Why so much tuna, though?"

In response to her question, something came out from under the kitchen table and entwined itself around Selina's calves. It was a gray cat with black legs that made it look as if it were wearing stockings.

Maggie smiled sheepishly and picked up the cat. "She's the reason why I got so much tuna. Sis, meet Isis. Isis, this is my sister, Selina."

Selina looked at the cat. It had piercing green eyes that glittered softly. "Where'd you find her?" she asked her sister.

"I was on my way home and she was lying in the alleyway near here," Maggie explained. "She looked hungry so I brought her home with me." She held the cat closer in a protective gesture. "You're not mad, are you?"

Selina didn't answer at first, just to see if Maggie would squirm. It was typical of her little sister to bring home a cat she found on the street. She always did have a soft spot for strays. Even when they had almost nothing to eat, Maggie would always be willing to share what they had with a homeless puppy or kitten.

"I'll take care of it," Maggie went on, afraid that Selina might tell her to kick Isis out the door. "I'll take it to the vet, I'll feed it—"

"All right, all right, Mags," Selina interjected. "She can stay. Just make sure she doesn't shred the furniture or the curtains." Just to show that she meant it, she gave Isis a pat on the head. The cat purred for more.

"I think she likes you," Maggie commented.

Selina smiled. "That's nice. Now put her down and wash up already. Let's see if that tuna casserole tastes as good to me as it did for Isis."

Katherine put the phone and her notes down. She got up and stretched.

_So what do we have? _she asked herself. _Is Daggett BioIndustries hiding something?_ According to her informant, the company had finished developing its first batch of bacteriocin-based drugs. The drugs were then distributed to various drug-supply houses throughout Gotham and the rest of the country. As far as her informant knew, both Gotham Mercy and Gotham General did receive large quantities. "But certainly not large enough for the entire batch to have disappeared," her informant said.

_So where did the drugs go?_ Katherine asked herself. That was the question that she wanted to answer. The information that she gathered tonight offered savory food for speculation but she knew that she needed to do more research.

"Katherine?" She turned and saw her grandfather standing at the door.

"Granddad?" Katherine went up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What brings you here? I thought you were at home."

"I was," Bertell Kane said. "But I had nothing to do and you know how much I dislike being idle. So I decided to visit my only granddaughter while she was at work."

"Actually, I'm done, Granddad," Katherine told him. "I was just mulling over a few things." She put her notes and documents into a folder. "Shall we have dinner together? I just have to close up here."

"I'd like that," Kane said. "I'll wait for you in the car. I drove myself, if you can believe it."

Katherine smiled. For a man of his age, her grandfather was still active. In fact, he made it a point to attend the board meetings at Kane Global Holdings, particularly when there was a contentious issue to be discussed. And despite picking much younger men to run the company, his mind was still the fountainhead from which sprung major decisions and his word was still regarded as law.

"I won't take long, Granddad," she said. "Give me ten minutes." Considerably less than ten minutes later, Katherine was sitting next to her grandfather as he drove his Volvo towards their favorite restaurant. The maitre d' led them to a private booth in the back. While they were waiting for their orders, Kane asked his granddaughter: "What was that folder that you brought with you, Katherine?"

"Just a little work that I need to do, Granddad," Katherine replied. "A little research, you might say."

"What kind of research?" Kane wanted to know.

"Medical research for the clinics," Katherine told him. "I'm particularly interested in bacteriocins."

"Becoming a doctor, are you, my dear?" Kane remarked. "Or is it something else entirely?"

Katherine knew better than to beat around the bush while speaking with her grandfather. "I was trying to order a large quantity of bacteriocin from Daggett BioIndustries but they didn't have it in stock. I thought it was rather strange since I was able to order similar drugs from Mr. Northland's company."

"Ah, Gareth Northland," Kane mused pleasantly. "A good man." He paused to take a sip from his wineglass. "And now you're curious as to what happened to Daggett's bacteriocins?"

Katherine nodded. "More than a little curious, I must admit."

Kane considered this. "I am curious myself. You know that the company has a stake in Daggett BioIndustries, of course?" Katherine nodded. "Our funds were used in the research for these drugs that you're looking for. If Daggett's researchers didn't finish their work, I believe we deserve an explanation."

"They did complete the research, Granddad," Katherine said. "A…source...told me that. And the drugs were distributed nationwide. The question is where the drugs actually went."

"You trust your source?" Kane asked his granddaughter.

"I do, Granddad," Katherine replied.

Kane nodded. "I should bring this up with the board. I'd like to know where our money went. Instead of helping people, someone may have wound up pocketing the funds."

"That's good of you, Granddad," Katherine said, "but would you please hold off on doing that…until I find out what I need to know? If there is someone inside Daggett BioIndustries who's responsible for the disappearance of their bacteriocins, I'd like to find evidence that can be used against them first."

Kane looked at his granddaughter. "Are you sure about what you're planning to do?"

Katherine nodded. "Something's not right here, Granddad. It bears looking into, doesn't it?"

"I'd rather you let the police do it, Katherine," Kane said.

"So would I but there isn't a reason to call them in yet," Katherine said. "Please, Granddad—let me see if I can find any evidence of what happened to the drugs. And then we can call the police to follow up on what I find. If I find nothing, I'll admit I was wrong but I don't think I am."

Kane smiled but only slightly: "As you wish then. I assume you remember everything that Mr. Trafford taught you?"

"Of course," Katherine assured her grandfather. Darwin Trafford was their personal head of security. According to the elder Kane, he was once in the United Kingdom Special Forces and MI6, aside from being a visiting instructor for the British Armed Forces' Special Forces Support Group. While she was growing up, Katherine often wondered if it was true. When she was old enough, Mr. Trafford began training her in self-defense with and without weapons. Katherine had put her knowledge to good use more than once and Mr. Trafford considered her one of his more brilliant students.

"All right," Kane said but added: "Be careful, would you? You're my only grandchild, you know. I wouldn't want to lose your company. What would I do by myself?"

Katherine laughed. "Play cards with Mr. Trafford all day, I suppose." Then she turned serious. "Don't worry, Granddad. I'll be careful. I promise."

Bruce and Talia were being led to a table at the Camellia Club when someone called his name and waved them over. It was William Earle and a man that Bruce didn't recognize.

"Will you be joining Mr. Earle, sir?" the waiter asked him. Bruce looked at Talia. She shrugged. "It can't be any worse than the party," was her only comment. Bruce nodded at the waiter and he brought them to Earle's table. He immediately cleared space for them and took their orders.

"Well, this is a surprise," Earle said with his most winning smile. "What brought you two here?"

"Dinner, mostly, Mr. Earle," Bruce said. "I'm sure you remember Talia. She was with me at the party at the Marlinton."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Earle said. "And I want to thank you for e-mailing the documents regarding that incident in Afghanistan. Our Legal Department is reviewing them now so that we can come up with the appropriate action."

"I'm glad I can be of help to you, sir," Talia said.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Earle gestured towards his companion. "This is Professor Hugo Strange. He's the one in charge of the project I told you about."

"The one Powers Technology is developing for Gotham P.D.?" Bruce asked.

"The very same, Mr. Wayne," Strange replied with a vaguely European accent that Bruce thought was either German or Austrian. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise, I'm sure, professor," Bruce said. "This is my friend, Talia Head."

"Head? An interesting surname," Strange remarked, nodding politely towards Talia. "You're British, I take it, or Irish, perhaps? Your surname has quite an etymology. It refers to someone with a peculiarity of the head or someone who dwells by a hill or by the source of a stream."

"That's correct, professor," Talia said. Strange was intelligent—or, at the very least, well-read. She made note of that just in case it proved significant later. "Your own surname is interesting, as well. Its root comes in the old Latin term for 'outside', am I correct?"

Strange smiled, apparently pleased in finding an intellectual equal. "Yes, that's true. And a very appropriate surname it is, if I may say so myself. I find myself an outsider at times."

"Come now, professor," Earle said, "you're being much too modest. You're well respected in the scientific community worldwide."

"You're a scientist?" Bruce asked. "What kind of project are you supervising, professor?"

"I can't mention the specifics, of course, but it has something to do with fighting crime," Strange replied. "I'm a proponent of using the scientific method to combat crime, Mr. Wayne."

"Then your project should be welcomed by Gotham P.D.," Bruce remarked. "After all, they also use science to solve crimes. I hear their forensics department has improved greatly since James Gordon became police commissioner."

"Ah, but they apply science _after the fact_, Mr. Wayne," Strange observed. "What I wish to do is apply science to prevent crime from taking place before the perpetrator has a chance to finish his deed—or, if possible and I believe it is, _before_ he has a chance to start his deed."

"Before someone commits a crime?" Talia's disbelief was plain to see on her face. "That's going to be difficult, professor—unless, of course, Powers Technology has somehow developed a method that will allow the police to read a criminal's mind."

"Have you, Mr. Earle?" Bruce asked.

Earle smiled in a self-satisfied way. "Perhaps we have, Bruce."

"Would you care to elaborate?" Talia asked.

"Science _has_ created the means by which we can read a person's thoughts, Mr. Wayne," Strange began. "And that method, of course, is psychology. It is a field of science in which I specialize."

"Psychology isn't mind-reading, professor," Bruce argued. "You can't read a person's mind with it."

"Perhaps not, Mr. Wayne," Strange said. "Psychology makes no such claim. But it can allow us to form hypotheses about a person based on observations of his behavior. And those hypotheses may be utilized as a starting point for criminal investigation."

Bruce eyed the professor steadily. "You're talking about profiling."

Strange's face registered contempt for the term. "Profiling as done by the FBI and others like them is little more than guesswork, Mr. Wayne. Oh, I don't doubt that they've done their share in combating crime but those are little more than lucky guesses. What I propose to do is based on observable fact."

"And what exactly do you propose to do?" Talia wanted to know.

"Simple, young lady," Strange replied. "I intend to show that criminals are an open book to those like me who know not merely to _see_ but to _observe_ as well."

"'Others see. I observe.' That's from Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?" Bruce commented.

"Very good, Mr. Wayne," Strange said approvingly. "You are an educated man, even if you didn't finish your studies at university. But then, anyone can learn who is willing to learn. And criminals are often the simplest of subjects. They are not as complex as they or anyone else would have you believe."

Almost simultaneously, the same thought entered Bruce and Talia's minds: _A criminal is not complicated._ That was what Ra's al Ghul often told his pupils, including Talia and Nyssa.

"This is the truth," Strange continued. "The criminal mind _is_ an open book. It can be read. Better, it can be written and rewritten easily by someone who knows the exact method. And that is what I intend to prove with this project."

"You'll find out in a day or two, Bruce," Earle told him. "The invitations to our demonstration should arrive at Lucius' office tomorrow morning. And I expect your lady friend to be there as well. We'll make believers out of you doubting Thomases."

Bruce wondered if Earle was trying to provoke him into committing a rash act. He decided to let the remark slide. "I'll be convinced when I see your project in action, sir."

"You will be, Mr. Wayne," Strange said with a shark-like smile. "I guarantee it."

After dinner, Bruce and Talia excused themselves and left. "I find it hard to believe that Mr. Wayne is running a billion-dollar business," Strange commented when they were gone.

"You said yourself that he was well-read, Professor Strange," Earle pointed out to his guest.

"Being well-read does not necessarily mean that your intellect is operating at full capacity, Mr. Earle," Strange said. "This man is a trifling intellect compared to myself."

"That may be true but he did cut me out of Wayne Enterprises by surprise," Earle said.

Strange turned his shark's smile on Earle. "With all due respect, Mr. Earle, that was a result of your own carelessness as much as it was his own luck. You should have known that he was not about to let you take his company away from him."

"Perhaps I made an error," Earle admitted. "But I was able to land on my feet again."

"That is true," Strange conceded. "You do have a knack for survival, Mr. Earle."

"Sometimes it's all a matter of knowing the right people, professor," Earle remarked.

"Perhaps," Strange said. "But I would prefer to know people the right way instead."

"What way might that be, professor?" Earle wanted to know.

"Oh, you shall see at the demonstration," Strange told him quietly, "just like everyone else."

Selina was engaging in her usual ritual before going to bed: walking through the apartment, making sure everything was in its place. Her last stop was Maggie's room. She went in quietly. Maggie was already asleep. Selina sat down at the desk near the window and watched her sister, feeling simple love for her welling up inside her.

Something stirred under Maggie's bed. Selina leaned forward in her chair and saw Isis padding softly towards her. The cat jumped onto her lap. Maggie was right; for some reason, Isis took to her right away. Her behavior certainly was different from most cats that she'd encountered.

Isis rubbed her head against Selina's chin, purring all the while. "Shush, Isis," Selina told her, scratching her lightly behind her ear. "Maggie's sleeping." Isis seemed to understand and settled down on her lap. Maggie stirred slightly. Selina held her breath, as she usually did when her sister's sleep was disturbed, and then she relaxed when Maggie turned towards the wall behind her.

"Let me tell you something, Isis," Selina whispered to the cat. "Did you know that this is the longest time Maggie has ever had a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and a roof over her head? It's true, you know."

Isis mewed softly. Selina laughed. "It's the same with you, isn't it? Getting to live with us is probably a good chunk of heaven for you too, right?" She stroked the cat's head affectionately. "Well, you're welcome to stay here for as long as you want. I guess we strays have to look out for each other."

Isis purred her thanks. Selina picked her up and gently put her down on the floor. "Watch over Maggie, for you, will you?" she asked the cat softly, petting it. "She's the youngest of us three so we have to keep her safe. Okay, Isis?"

The cat looked at her with its green eyes and Selina could almost believe that it understood every word she said. "Good kitty," she said, giving Isis a final pat before leaving Maggie's room.

Detective Ramirez stopped the car in front of Commissioner Gordon's house. It was just a little after ten in the evening. This was the earliest he'd ever been home since taking on his new duties. Not having to run after heavily armed maniacs trying to blow up Gotham certainly made his life easier. He looked out the window and saw that there was a light on in the living room. Barbara was probably asleep on the couch waiting for him.

"You're a lucky man, chief," Ramirez remarked. "I hope you don't mind if I say so."

"Yeah, well, that's something I'm grateful for," Gordon said. He turned towards Ramirez. "How's your mother doing?"

"She's fine, chief," the detective answered. "She's getting along well with that nurse taking care of her so that's something."

"Is that right?" Gordon said. "That's good." Not long after The Joker was put behind bars, Ramirez went to see Gordon personally and came clean about her involvement with Sal Maroni's criminal organization. She also confessed that she took part in the abduction of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes. Apparently, someone put the fear of God in her, thereby precipitating her admission of guilt. Gordon and Bullock suspected The Batman but neither of them ever asked him about it. Internal Affairs put Ramirez through the wringer, resulting in the arrest of several others within Gotham P.D. That, in turn, led to the District Attorney's office's current campaign to dismantle the Maroni organization.

Despite Ramirez's role in all that, the head of I.A., Chief Inspector Gavin Ellery, recommended her dismissal and prosecution for dereliction of duty. Gordon and three of Ellery's inspectors, however, managed to persuade the new assistant district attorney, Marian Grange, to keep Ramirez on the force. To better ensure that she toed the line, Gordon made her an assistant of sorts. From that point onward, she was directly under his supervision. It was also made clear to her that she was to undergo a weekly evaluation by the three inspectors that stood up for her—Aloysius O' Hara, Sean Keenan, and Ellen Yin—and, of course, Commissioner Gordon himself. Those evaluations would last for an entire year and the slightest sign of neglect towards her duties would be grounds for her removal from the force. "If you flunk our evaluation, you'll be out on the street without any protection at all," Keenan warned her the first time she stood before them. "And I'm sure you know how happy that would make Maroni." He took the whole matter more personally than the other evaluators (except perhaps for Commissioner Gordon) since he and Ramirez were friends since their days in the academy. Accepting payoffs from Maroni (even if it was for her mother's medical bills) was unthinkable and unacceptable for him. Sometimes, he was so harsh with Ramirez during her evaluations that O'Hara, Yin, and Gordon had to caution him about being biased against her. Ramirez took it in stride, knowing she had brought all this trouble upon her head herself.

Fortunately, Bertell Kane, a longtime supporter of the Gotham P.D., did his part to make sure that Ramirez stayed clean. He arranged with Katherine to have one of the nurses who worked with HOPE WORKS to serve as a live-in caregiver for the detective's mother. All expenses would be handled by Katherine using his money. When Ramirez asked him what he expected in return, the elder Kane's reply was simple: "Be a good police officer, detective. Do your job right and protect the city. Lord knows that this city could use a lot more good officers. We can't afford to lose too many of those." Since then, Ramirez had been doing her best to justify their faith in her.

Those thoughts went through Gordon's mind as Ramirez drove away. She hadn't complained, hadn't disobeyed a single time since becoming his assistant. And there was no denying that she was an efficient and effective officer. Her police skills were second to none on the MCU and even Bullock admitted (grudgingly, of course) that a newcomer like Renee Montoya might learn a lot from her. While they were trying to bring in the Jokerz, she laid her life on the line no less than three times when a gun battle ensued between the police and the gang. She was wounded once but went to work the next day, saying that it was nothing serious. Bullock, thankfully, said nothing at the time by way of comment. Privately, though, he told Gordon that Ramirez would either make it to the end of the year and be reinstated fully afterwards or she'd kill herself proving that she was still a cop. Thus far, the second prediction hadn't come true. That was thanks to Montoya and the newer detectives who genuinely wanted to give her a second chance. The Batman also got into the act, saving her on a few occasions when she was in deep over her head. But at the same time, Gordon knew that The Batman was keeping Ramirez under watch. Once he felt like telling him to cut her some slack but decided against it. The price he paid for getting The Joker off the streets bought him some slack of his own, albeit unofficially, from the commissioner.

He went inside his house. Barbara stirred when he knelt down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Jim?" she asked, rousing herself from her slumber.

"Yeah, Barb," he said. "I'm home."

"I'll have your dinner ready," she told him, getting up from the couch. "It won't take long." A few minutes later, he was at the table, filling himself up with his wife's cooking.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Not too bad, all things considered," Gordon told her. "We're just cleaning things up after arresting that gang."

"That's good," Barbara Gordon said, putting a hand on her husband's arm. "Will you be able to attend Jimmy's game tomorrow night?"

Gordon thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I can get off early tomorrow. Who's his team playing?"

"That team from Otisburg," Barbara said.

"You mean the one that kept them from making it to the championship game last year?" Gordon asked her. She nodded. "Well, I'll be there. I want to see him whack one clear out of the field."

"Jimmy will be happy to see you there," Barbara told him, squeezing his hand. "And I'm sure he's going to hand you a home run himself."

"Now that's something to look forward to," Gordon said, smiling. Just then, he heard a cry coming from the baby alarm that his wife had placed on the table. "I'll get that," she said. "Finish eating."

"What's wrong with Babs?" he asked.

"She's got a cough but I don't think it's anything serious," Barbara replied. "But just to be sure, I think I'll take her to the doctor tomorrow morning while Jimmy's at school."

"I can drive you, if you want," Gordon told her. "I want to make sure that Babs is all right. It's on the way to the office anyway."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to arrive late for work," Barbara said.

Gordon smiled. "From time to time, being commissioner allows me to get away with a few things. I guess the force can stand an hour or two without me. After all, Bullock's there to run things."

"All right, Jim," Barbara agreed. "But you don't stay too long. Detective Bullock might run the other officers ragged without you there to keep him under control."

"Honey, that's why I keep Bullock there in the first place," Jim Gordon said with a wry smile. That got a laugh out of his wife, who told him that he and Detective Bullock were awful as she was on her way out of the kitchen. He watched her go and thought to himself once more: _Yeah, that's something I'm really grateful for—something I'll always be grateful for._


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce got up early the next morning and began his usual exercise routine in the master bedroom. As he did his rapid-fire pushups, he recalled something that Ra's al Ghul once told him: _You must cultivate that which provides your needs._ He was talking about their food supply back then but Ra's made it clear later on that his maxim was not solely about the vegetable gardens or the rice fields. It applied to almost everything that the League needed, be it sustenance, weaponry—or information.

And right now, information was what Bruce needed. His meeting with Hugo Strange left him with a burgeoning curiosity about the man heading Powers Technology's newest project.

Alfred came in with his breakfast while he was suspended upside-down on his pull-up bars. "Good morning, Master Bruce," the butler said. "A bit too early to be a bat, isn't it?"

Bruce dropped the weights he held onto the padding below him. Then he unlimbered himself from the bars. "And good morning to you too, Alfred," he said, picking up the health shake Alfred made for him and taking a sip. "What's on my calendar for today aside from work at Wayne Enterprises?"

"You're supposed to meet with the Kanes for lunch today, sir," Alfred told him. As usual, he didn't need to read from a date book or anything like that. Bruce was always impressed with how Alfred kept things organized with a minimum of effort. Alfred, however, told him that making it seem easy involved a lot of work, something that he taught Bruce as frequently as possible from childhood. "You're to discuss your new public-service projects with them. And this afternoon, you're supposed to open the Infantino Street Station for the monorail."

"Oh, yeah," Bruce said. "The train's up and running again, isn't it?"

"Quite smoothly, I might add, sir," Alfred told him. "Lucius truly is an engineering genius."

"That's what my father used to say too," Bruce said, accepting a towel from his butler. He was about to go to the shower when Alfred cleared his throat and said: "Might I say something, sir?"

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce asked.

"If you and Ms. Kane are truly intent on opening up the free clinics your father once ran," Alfred said, "then you could do worse than to ask for the assistance of Dr. Leslie Thompkins."

"The name's familiar," Bruce said. "I seem to recall my father mentioning her a couple of times."

"Dr. Thompkins was one of your father's teachers at medical school, sir," Alfred informed him. "She considered him one of the most brilliant students she'd encountered—not to mention one of the most generous and most compassionate."

"She said that about my father?" Bruce asked.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred said. "You might not have noticed but she was at your parents' funeral."

"What's she doing now? Is she still teaching?"

"She retired a few years before you returned to Gotham, sir. She used to have a clinic at the Narrows but it was destroyed during your battle with Ra's al Ghul, sad to say."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said. "I didn't realize that."

"It wasn't your fault, sir," Alfred told him simply.

Bruce was about to say something but a thought came to him. "How long have you two known each other?" he asked as tactfully as possible.

"Long enough, sir," was Alfred's reply.

Bruce nodded. "Well, suppose you arrange a meeting Dr. Thompkins for me and Kate, Alfred? Make it at her convenience, of course."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said approvingly. "I'm sure she'll be of great help to you and Ms. Kane."

Bruce was heading for the shower when he stopped. "I almost forgot, Alfred," he said. "Please call Sandra Flanders at Gotham University and ask her to do a little research for me, would you?"

"Certainly, sir," Alfred said. "What topic are you interested in today?"

"I need whatever information she can get on a Professor Hugo Strange," Bruce replied. "Have her fax it or e-mail it to me at the office."

"Of course, sir." Alfred left the master bedroom to make the call while Bruce bathed. By the time he was dressed and ready to go, Alfred had word from Sandra Flanders that she would gather the information and send it to Bruce as soon as possible. Bruce thanked Alfred and went out to the driveway where his Lamborghini was waiting.

Ra's al Ghul's advice was also on Talia's mind as she was doing her morning exercises. The _kata_ was an excellent way to keep herself in shape while focusing her mind on the day's tasks.

And the first task of the day was to learn what she could about Professor Hugo Strange.

The first question she had about him, of course, was obvious: _Was Strange a member of the League Of Shadows?_ His comment about criminals not being complicated was one of her father's favorite maxims. According to her own discreet network of contacts, Strange was most definitely not a member of the League. Although she wanted to be certain, she felt that her first question could be set aside for the moment.

Her next questions sprang from the first: if Strange wasn't a member of the League, then who was he? And why would Powers Technology entrust what appeared to be a very important project to him?

Talia knew that it would be easy to search public databases for information on Strange, if he was indeed as well-known in the scientific community as Earle said he was. But there were other pieces of information that she wanted and those weren't readily available for public consumption. For that, she contacted someone whom she knew could find what she needed—for a price, of course.

Her hands and feet cut the stillness of her bedroom with graceful ease as she went through the _kata_ her father and his lieutenants taught her and Nyssa. She even practiced some of the forms that Nyssa shared with her when she was in the mood to school her bookish half-sister in the martial arts.

Her laptop gave of a soft, electronic chirp. She finished her final form before going over to it. Her contact was online. She typed in a few commands and then the image of her contact appeared on the monitor.

"Privacy at last," her contact—an information broker named Looker—said. She wore her green-tinted glasses as always. Talia asked her about them once and Looker told her that it was to protect her eyes from the ambient radiation from her monitor as well as to conceal her identity. It was one of Looker's quirks; Talia couldn't seem to remember a time when she hadn't seen the information broker without her glasses.

"I trust you found something interesting?" Talia asked.

Looker smiled. "I believe I did. Hugo Strange was quite the whiz kid when he was younger. And he was a busy man before Powers Technology hired him. It's all in the file I'm sending you now." Indicator lights on Talia's laptop blinked as she received the data. It was a fairly large file, she noted. Once it was done uploading, she transferred a considerable sum to Looker's account.

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Van Garde," Looker said with a smile. She logged off and her image disappeared. Talia immediately made several copies of the file before saving it in her flash drive. She would have it printed after completing her exercises. She wondered what she would discover about Strange.

Katherine's first stop was Gotham General. She went right to the hospital director's office. The director was flustered by her visit but, after she explained the reason for dropping in unannounced, she was taken first to the pharmacy and then to the storage area for the hospital drug supply. Katherine checked the inventory and ascertained that they had the right quantity of bacteriocin. Katherine made note of it in her palmtop and thanked the director and his personnel for their time.

_Next stop,_ _Gotham Mercy,_ she thought. _I wonder how Selina is doing._ Part of her was still worried about letting her go off alone especially since she would be going to one of the less savory neighborhoods in Gotham. Selina trained with her and Mr. Trafford semi-regularly and Katherine knew that she was more than capable of defending herself but that didn't stop her from feeling more than a little anxiety. After all, there was Maggie to consider.

_Stop it, Kate,_ Katherine told herself. _She can look after herself. She's an East End girl, after all._

Selina got off the bus and made her way across Aparo Park. It was noticeably cleaner than it used to be, she had to admit. Of course, it was still day time. She knew that come nightfall, the park would be the exclusive territory of the drug pushers, muggers, hookers, and various lowlifes who were from this area. That brought a small grin to her face because _she_ was from this area. This was where she and Maggie were born. She grew up tough for both her sake and Maggie's since neither one of their parents was interested in doing much by way of raising them properly. Both of them managed to get through East End's public schools but Selina knew that, if she wanted Maggie to have a future, they would have to leave the old neighborhood. They did leave and, hopefully, Maggie would never have to look or go back to this place again.

She crossed the street and went inside the clinic. She told the receptionist that she was there to speak with Dr. Thompkins. The receptionist asked her to wait. A few minutes later the receptionist returned and brought her to Dr. Thompkins' office.

"Well, hello, Selina," Leslie Thompkins greeted her warmly, the way she always did. It was Dr. Thompkins who inspired Maggie to take up medicine and Dr Thompkins also provided Selina and her sister with a safe shelter and a hot meal when none could be found, even at their home. The kindly woman was the closest thing that she and Maggie ever had to a real mother. She gestured towards a chair and Selina sat down. "I haven't seen you around here lately. How's Maggie?"

"Maggie's fine, Dr. Thompkins," Selina said. "She's been busy at school and I've been busy at HOPE WORKS so I haven't been able to drop by and help out here."

Dr. Thompkins looked pleased that both Selina and Maggie were doing well. "May I offer you some coffee or tea, perhaps?" she asked, going over to a small electric stove.

"No," Selina said. "But thank you ma'am. Actually, I'm here because—" She was cut short by the entry of one of the volunteer nurses. "Doctor," the harried-looking young woman said, "I think you should come see this. We have another recurrent case."

"Pardon me, Selina," Dr. Thompkins said. She went with the nurse to one of the examination rooms. A fourteen-year-old girl sat there, looking pale and miserable. Her worried relatives begged Dr. Thompkins for help. The doctor helped the nurse to escort the patient's family out of the examination room. Then she turned her attention to the girl.

"What happened to you, Christy?" Dr. Thompkins asked the girl.

"I-I feel sick, doctor," Christy replied. "I…I had a cough, remember? But now I feel worse…even after I took the medicine you prescribed…"

Dr. Thompkins felt her throat and forehead. Christy had a slight fever. "Did you finish all the medicine I prescribed for you, Christy?"

The girl nodded. Then she began to cough hoarsely. When she looked at the hand she'd used to cover her mouth, she saw flecks of blood. "Doctor—? What's wrong with me?" she asked in a frightened whisper.

"Don't worry, Christy," Dr. Thompkins told her. "We'll find out what's making you sick." She motioned for the nurse to come over and told her to start a testing procedure.

"Do you think she's like the other two patients, doctor?" the nurse asked.

"Maybe, Janice," Dr. Thompkins said. "We'll find out after you run the tests." She left the examination room to speak with the girl's family. Selina was with them. After explaining the testing procedure that they were about to do, Dr. Thompkins asked Selina to return to the office with her.

"What was that all about, ma'am?" Selina wanted to know. "And did your nurse say the girl was _another_ recurrent case?"

"That's correct," Dr. Thompkins said. "Two weeks ago, Christy was admitted here for a bacterial infection that was treated with a proper course of antibiotics. Now the symptoms of the infection have returned and are much more pronounced.

"Earlier this morning, we had two other patients in similar condition. They were suffering from bacterial infections that were treated successfully. But now they've returned and they've gotten worse."

"What do you think happened?" Selina asked, taking out her palmtop.

"Preliminary tests indicate that the bacteria responsible for their infection might be developing a resistance to the medicine we gave them," Dr. Thompkins replied.

"Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to have a drug called Neomycocin in stock, would you?" Selina wanted to know.

"That's the new bacteriocin-based drug from Daggett BioIndustries, isn't it?" Dr. Thompkins thought about it. "We had a small amount but it's finished. That's what we used on the three patients we have here now, as well as several other patients who were suffering from severe bacterial infections."

"And you haven't been able to restock your supplies?"

"No, we haven't. According to their representative, Daggett BioIndustries is still in the process of making a new batch at their labs."

"Is that so?" Selina remarked.

"Is that why you came here today, Selina?" Dr. Thompkins asked.

Selina nodded. "Katherine Kane and I wanted to find out where Daggett's bacteriocin went."

"Have you asked the major hospitals?" the doctor asked.

"That's what Katherine's doing right now, ma'am," Selina replied. "I'm handling the clinics."

"Well, I hope you find out what happened to the drugs, Selina," Dr. Thompkins said. "Because I think we're going to need all that we can get if more patients start arriving."

Bruce was reviewing the final draft of the plans for the charity kitchens when his phone rang. Mr. Fox had a workstation set up for Bruce in his office so that they could divide their tasks between them.

"Hello?" he said, typing in a correction to the document on his monitor.

"Hello, Bruce," Sandra Flanders said. "I've got the information you wanted."

"You have? Thanks," Bruce told her. "Send it over." He gave his company e-mail address. Sandra asked him to wait a moment or two. Then she said: "It's on its way, Bruce."

"I hope it wasn't hard finding the information I need," Bruce said.

"Well, it wasn't like searching for Ra's al Ghul and the League Of Shadows," Sandra said, laughing. "I think you'll find what you need there. But if you need more, let me know."

"I will." Bruce waited for Sandra to hang up and then checked his e-mail. The file was there already. He downloaded it and began to read.

"Why the sudden interest in Hugo Strange, Bruce?" Lucius Fox asked over his shoulder.

Bruce looked up, smiling sheepishly. He felt a bit like the way he did whenever one of his professors at Gotham U. caught him doing something else when he should've been paying attention to the subject at hand. "Just a little research," he said. "Talia and I ran into him and William Earle at the Camellia Club last night. He's the one in charge of Powers Technology's project—the one that Earle said was for Gotham P.D."

"Is that right?" Lucius leaned against Bruce's desk. "That's a bit of an odd choice for Earle and Powers."

"Why is that, sir?" Bruce asked. "I thought Strange was supposed to be real smart."

"Oh, he is, Bruce," Lucius said. "Hugo Strange is smart as a whip and sharp as tacks. As you'll see in that file, he's got degrees in psychology, medicine—psychiatry in particular, computer science, and engineering."

"He's that good?"

"Yes, he is, Bruce. Like I said, Strange is smart as a whip and sharp as tacks but he's also just as pleasant as either one. He's not the type to be patient, especially when things aren't done the way he wants them to be done."

"How do you know that?" Bruce asked.

"I've worked with him a couple of times before your father hired me," Lucius replied. "I got to know him fairly well. But I lost track of him when I joined Wayne Enterprises. This is the first I've heard about him in a long while."

Bruce frowned, digesting the information that his CEO had shared with him. "What do you think he's working on for Powers?"

Lucius shook his head. "I can't say until we see it, Bruce. And I don't know if it's something we're going to like."

Katherine was at Gotham Mercy's E.R. when she ran into a familiar face from Gotham U. Charlie Shreck was getting coffee from a vending machine when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, Charlie," Katherine greeted her. "Off duty already, huh?"

"Hey, Kate—what brings you here?" Charlie asked.

"I had a meeting with the hospital director," Katherine replied.

"Oh. Hey, you want some coffee?" He held out the steaming paper cup to her. "It's my treat."

"Thanks," Katherine said, taking the cup. Charlie got himself another hot beverage from the machine. She couldn't quite hide the smile on her face as she took a sip from her cup.

"What?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, I guess I still can't believe that you're actually working here, Charlie," Katherine said. "Considering that you're one of Gotham's brat pack and all that."

"Yeah," Charlie admitted with a lopsided grin. "Who knew, huh?" Like Katherine, Bruce, and Derek Powers, Charlie was the only child of one of Gotham's founding families. The Shrecks immigrated to Gotham from Germany and started a dry-goods emporium that later evolved into one of the largest mall chains in Gotham, if not the entire country. Later on, however, it was discovered that Charlie's father was actually the boss of a criminal gang who intimidated and muscled out whole neighborhoods for him in order to further the expansion of his properties throughout Gotham. The Batman and Commissioner Gordon (then a lieutenant), of course, put a stop to the Shreck _paterfamilias_' activities. Fortunately, Charlie was left with the legal part of the family fortune and he used it to send himself to medical school. While he was a student, he often joked that his dad would've bought him his own hospital; now he was working as a medic in one of the toughest hospitals in the state.

Charlie took a sip of his coffee. "Who knew?" he said again. Then he laughed. "Then again, it's what I wanted to do anyway. Running a business wasn't in my blood, I guess, even if dad wanted me to take over the malls. I'm glad your granddad bought them up. That way I don't have to worry about all those people losing their jobs."

Katherine touched Charlie's arm gently. "And I'm glad you stayed on here, Charlie. You're one of the best doctors we've got here."

Charlie shrugged. "Like I said, it's what I always wanted to do. And…I guess I'm making up for what my dad did, you know?"

Katherine was about to say something when the P.A. system sent out a call for him: "Dr. Shreck, to the E.R. Dr. Shreck, to the E.R."

"Duty calls," Charlie said. "Hold this for me, would you?" He gave his cup to Katherine and ran for the emergency room. When he got there, a nurse immediately advised him on an incoming patient as she handed him a pair of rubber gloves and a mask.

"What's going on, Charlie?" Katherine asked, running up to him.

"We've got a possible Code Pink," Charlie told her. "A patient with an infectious disease is coming." A few minutes later, two medics wheeled a stretcher into the E.R. An old man lay on the stretcher, covered in a blood-stained blanket. Charlie put on his mask and approached the medics, who apprised him of the situation. Charlie and two more doctors, attended to by half a dozen nurses, tended to the old man immediately. Several minutes later, the old man was being taken to one of Gotham Mercy's wings where he would be under quarantine.

"What happened to the patient, Charlie?" Katherine asked Charlie.

"It's some kind of bacterial infection, probably TB," Charlie replied. "But we can't be sure until the tests come back. I just hope that—" The P.A. called for him again. "Listen, why don't you wait for me at the patient's lounge down the hall? I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done here." Katherine agreed and Charlie returned to the E.R. A second ambulance disgorged another patient with symptoms similar to the first one. Fifteen minutes later, another patient in the same condition arrived. In the span of an hour, the E.R. was busy as Charlie and his fellow doctors were dealing with what looked like a small-scale outbreak.

Selina didn't much care for the way things were turning out either. Six patients were now lying in Dr. Thompkins' clinic suffering from recurrent bacterial infections made worse by complications. She left a message with the receptionist asking Katherine to wait for her if she should arrive while Selina was out.

It felt strange as she walked down familiar streets. In every street corner were memories, good and bad. Time and again, she saw someone whom she might've known, although they avoided eye contact with her. Some of the people she passed looked at her with some interest since she seemed to be a bit too well-off to be from the area but she went unmolested except for some catcalls and wolf whistles.

She reached her destination after taking several turns that led her deeper into the East End's core. The door before her didn't look like it had changed since she was last there. She pressed the buzzer. Several moments later, she heard a voice coming from somewhere behind the door: "What do you want?"

"I need to speak to you, Mama Fortuna," Selina said.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded.

"It's me," Selina said. "Selina Kyle, Mama." She hadn't said those words in years. That funny feeling went through her again.

She heard locks being unbolted from the inside. "Come in," she was told. Selina pushed the door inward and stepped into a dimly lit corridor. Not even the sunlight that momentarily shone in from outside was able to dispel the shadows that crowded around her.

"Move forward," someone told her and Selina did so. She heard the locks being reset and sensed a presence behind her. "Go on in," whoever it was told her. "But keep your hands to yourself. Don't touch anything."

Selina walked down the corridor. She knew where she was supposed to go but stopped at the foot of a staircase to her right. Hands frisked her clinically but quickly. Nothing was taken from her.

"All right, go upstairs," she was told. "Keep your hands to yourself."

Selina nodded and took the stairs up to a second floor. There would be two more floors, she knew. When she reached the third floor, she was ordered to stop in front of another door. After a wait of several moments, Selina was allowed to enter the room beyond. Her unseen escort did not accompany her. After crossing a short hallway, she was inside.

"Selina Kyle," said the woman who sat behind an ornate writing desk. She looked at Selina with dark eyes that seemed to be peering out from under a hood of shadows. "Well, well—I didn't expect to see you here again."

"I've come for a good reason, Mama Fortuna," Selina said.

"I'm sure you have," Mama Fortuna remarked. "Selina Kyle doesn't come to me or anyone else asking for help unless something is beyond her capacity. Tell me: what help can I offer you?"

"I need to find out if there's been any kind of sickness spreading throughout the neighborhood, Mama Fortuna," Selina said. "It's very important."

"Come now, Selina," Mama Fortuna chided her. "There's always been sickness in the East End. You should know that. Has your time with the Kanes made you forget all about your life here?"

Selina didn't know if the woman was trying to insult her or if she was merely making sport of her. She decided to press on with her case. "There are six people who are very ill at Dr. Thompkins' clinic. They were given medicine two weeks ago and they were supposed to be cured. Now they're suffering and they may be dying, Mama Fortuna."

Mama Fortuna waved her hand dismissively. "Such things happen here. You seem to forget that too easily."

"I _haven't_ forgotten," Selina said, her temper showing itself despite her attempt to keep it in check. "That's why I've come here. If something is happening here that I can do something about, then I would like to know about it."

Mama Fortuna leaned back in her chair. "That's very charitable of you, Selina. I thought your only goal was to leave this place and never come back."

"Are you saying you won't help me?" Selina asked. "Let me know and I'll leave."

Mama Fortuna laughed. "You never did manage to rein in your pride, did you?"

Selina held her temper back. "I apologize for bothering you, Mama Fortuna. I'll leave you now." She turned to go but stopped and looked back. "If you think I've changed, well—you haven't. You're still the same. You'll never change." With that, she exited the room. When she stepped out into the daylight, she spared one last glance at the building where Mama Fortuna lived like the queen of a ruined empire before walking away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Three**

Bruce parked his Lamborghini in front of the Grand Plaza's driveway and handed the keys to the valet.

"Glad you were able to get it fixed, Mr. Wayne," the valet remarked before taking the car away. Bruce just smiled to himself. The Lamborghini was new; the old one was considered beyond repair by the dealership's service center so he simply bought a replacement. At least that car wasn't much of a problem. He still wondered if it was possible to rebuild another Tumbler. Mr. Fox had been vague about that and he knew that they both had to be careful. If Coleman Reese was able to piece together his clandestine enterprise, he was fairly certain that others might do the same.

He went inside Palazzo, the Italian restaurant that Bertell Kane had suggested for their meeting. The maitre d' greeted him and led him to the table where the elder Kane was waiting.

"Good morning, Mr. Kane," Bruce said, shaking the man's hand.

"Good morning, Bruce," Kane replied. "It's good to see you again. You look well."

"So do you, sir." Bruce sat down across Kane. "Where's Kate? I thought she'd be with you."

"She had some business to take care of at HOPE WORKS," Kane explained. "She called to say she'd be joining us late. I hope that won't be a problem."

"Not at all," Bruce said. "I'm sure Wayne Enterprises can function very well without me for a couple of hours. It stayed alive for seven years without me, after all."

"Not very well, though, if you don't mind my saying so," Kane told him. "I didn't think Earle was the man to run your business for you. It's a good thing that Lucius Fox is in charge now. No offense, of course."

Bruce nodded. "None taken. And speaking of business, I take it Kate told you about my plans?"

"Yes, she did." Kane reached for his glass and took a sip. "You're being rather ambitious, Bruce."

"I suppose I am. But Gotham does deserve to have something back for all that it's given to my family's company."

Kane nodded. "And you think that this is the best way?"

Bruce shrugged. "One of them, Mr. Kane. I'm sure my parents had so many other ideas to give back to Gotham."

"They did," the elder Kane said. "And by God, I went along with them all the way, Bruce. Kane Global Holdings wasn't as successful then as it is now—of course, neither was Wayne Enterprises—but that never stopped your parents from trying to do the right thing." He leaned back in his chair. "Katherine tells me that she's willing to help you."

"She said that she would reopen the free clinics that my father once ran under the auspices of HOPE WORKS."

Kane nodded. "She told me much the same thing." He asked Bruce questions regarding the administrative and financial details of his project and Bruce answered him honestly, picking the data from the documents he, Lucius, and Talia had worked on together. That was one of the things that Ra's al Ghul often complimented him on during his training: his uncanny ability to pick up and remember virtually anything he saw at least once. The leader of the League of Shadows would often utilize different fighting techniques against Bruce during their sparring sessions and was often amazed to find that Bruce was able to copy and incorporate those techniques into his own fighting style within a matter of seconds.

Kane looked Bruce in the eye as he mulled over the information that Bruce had given him. "I can send you the documents we have," Bruce told him. "You can look them over with Katherine. I'm certain that the project plan that we've formulated will show that Wayne Enterprises is financially stable enough to be able to carry out what I want to do without bleeding itself."

"Are you certain that you're pushing through with this course of action?" the elder Kane asked.

"Yes, sir," Bruce replied. "Given the current economic climate, it would do a great deal of good." He shrugged. "And if we need more money, I'm sure I won't miss my Lamborghini that much if I have to sell it."

Kane smiled, thinking, _He's turning out like you, Thomas. He's your son, no question about that._ "I don't think you'll need to do that, Bruce. You can count on Kane Global Holdings for help. And I believe that the plan that you and Lucius came up with is feasible."

"Thank you, sir," Bruce said. "I suppose we can have lunch now?" He waved a waiter over with a couple of menus. After he and Kane gave their orders, their talk turned to other topics. Half an hour after their luncheon meeting began, Katherine finally arrived with Selina in tow.

"Well, this is a switch," Bruce said, getting up to greet her. "Usually I'm the one who arrives late with a gorgeous female companion."

"Hello, Bruce," Katherine said, kissing him on the cheek. She did the same with her grandfather. "Sorry for the delay, Granddad. Are you two done discussing Bruce's project?"

Kane nodded. "I think Bruce's plan will work, Katherine. And I'm pledging my support to make sure it does."

"Are you sure you need to do that?" she asked. "Bruce probably has enough money of his own to finance the entire thing." She laughed. Then she remembered Selina: "Bruce, meet Selina Kyle. She's my assistant at HOPE WORKS. She's the best assistant I've ever had."

"The way you run through assistants, it's a miracle she's still with you," Bruce remarked laughingly. Katherine tended to work her assistants as hard as she did herself, partly as a way to test their commitment to their work and partly because that was simply the way she applied herself to HOPE WORKS. More than once, Bruce said that he was lucky that he got his company back or he would've been forced to come to her for a job. No doubt she would've made him his assistant and he would've quit a day after being hired.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Selina said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you and Mr. Kane."

"Not at all, Selina," Bertell Kane assured her. "We're glad you could join us. How's Margaret?"

"She's fine, Mr. Kane," Selina said. "She's going to apply for an internship with HOPE WORKS this summer."

"Is she doing well with her studies?" Kane wanted to know.

Selina smiled. "Very well, sir."

"Selina's sister is attending Gotham University on one of Granddad's scholarships," Katherine told Bruce. She flashed Bruce a wry smile that he knew well. "Would you like me to get you an application, Bruce? Maybe you can finally hang a Gotham U. diploma on your office wall."

"You didn't finish college, Mr. Wayne?" Selina asked, unable to contain her surprise.

Bruce shrugged. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Kyle. After my parents died, I just didn't see the point in it." He eyed her across the table. "I take it you didn't, either."

Selina shook her head. "Maggie's more college material than I am, Mr. Wayne," she was saying but Bruce stopped her: "Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne was what everyone called my father and I'm not used to it yet."

Selina smiled. "Okay…Bruce. My sister's the one who deserves to go to college. Me, I just have enough smarts to get by."

"I find that hard to believe," Bruce said. "You're probably much smarter than I am."

"Well…I do think it's amazing that a successful businessman like you didn't finish college," Selina said.

"I have a good staff working for me," Bruce told her, winking as if making a joke. "They make me look good."

"Darn right they do," Katherine interjected. Somehow, Bruce just couldn't stop flirting with every woman he met. Fortunately, their meals arrived just then. While they were eating, though, Selina couldn't stop herself from glancing at Bruce. Something about him seemed familiar. She couldn't tell if it was his eyes or his mouth. For some reason, she kept thinking that she'd seen him somewhere before. Then he looked up from his plate and caught her. She averted her gaze immediately. She felt her cheeks burning slightly. She turned her attention to the conversation going on, hoping he wouldn't say anything.

"So what happened to your investigation, Katherine?" Kane was asking.

"Selina and I uncovered a couple of interesting things," Katherine said. "First of all, both Gotham Mercy and Gotham General received a full shipment of the drugs that we're looking for. In fact, all the major hospitals and a good number of the smaller clinics throughout Gotham have received the drugs."

"So the drugs weren't misplaced or missing?" her grandfather said.

"Not exactly," Katherine replied. "The clinics did get the drugs but some of them have finished their supply. Daggett BioIndustries hasn't been able to send over a new batch. According to them, it's all still under production."

"What are we talking about here?" Bruce asked.

"Katherine tried to order a supply of bacteriocin-based drugs from Daggett BioIndustries for the clinics that you're planning to open," Bertell Kane told him. "But Daggett didn't have any more so she had to import a whole shipment from GreenStar in England."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that Kane Global Holdings invested a lot of money into the research Daggett BioIndustries did to create those drugs. And now it looks like all that money didn't pay off in the way we wanted."

"That's true," Selina said. "One of the clinics I visited had six patients suffering from a recurrent infection that was supposed to have been treated with the drugs that Dr. Thompkins got from Daggett BioIndustries."

Katherine looked at her. "Six cases, Selina? There are eight in Gotham Mercy right now. Charlie Shreck was their admitting physician."

"Charlie Shreck's working at Gotham Mercy?" Bruce interjected. "I thought he'd be at Cedars-Sinai or Mayo Clinic."

"He figured he was paying Gotham back for what his dad did," Katherine said. She looked thoughtful. "If the patients at Gotham Mercy and at Dr. Thompkins' clinic were treated with the same type of drugs, there might be something wrong with the batch that Daggett supplied them with."

"Sounds like your mystery's grown deeper, Katherine," Kane remarked.

"Shouldn't you let Gotham P.D. handle that?" Bruce asked. "I mean, if something fishy is going on to start with."

"Not quite yet, Bruce," Katherine told him. "I want to find out what happened to those patients and what connection the drugs have with their condition. When Selina and I find some hard evidence, then we can turn it over to Commissioner Gordon."

"Too bad The Batman can't look into this," Selina said. "He'd probably be able to get to the bottom of things right away."

"The Batman?" Bruce scoffed. "He's a criminal, remember?"

"He's a vigilante, Bruce," Katherine corrected him. "Not a criminal."

"That's the same thing, isn't it?" Bruce said. "He's operating outside the law and he did get those cops killed when The Joker was going around blowing Gotham up, remember?"

"I don't believe he was at fault for that," Katherine said. "And if it weren't for him, I don't think Gotham P.D. would've been able to capture The Joker."

"He's done a lot of good for Gotham," was Selina's opinion. "I don't think he deserves to be hunted down by the police."

"Well, in any case, The Batman probably won't be available to help you, Katherine," Kane said. "What do you propose to do now?"

"Continue my investigation, Granddad," Katherine said. "Selina and I can handle it for now. I don't think we have to call in the police."

"Just as long as you remember to be careful, Katherine," Kane advised her.

"You approve of what she's doing?" Bruce asked him.

Kane looked at his granddaughter before answering: "Bruce, I know Katherine well enough by now to know when not to intervene. She knows what she's doing."

"And I'll be watching her back, sir," Selina assured him. "We can take care of ourselves."

Bruce shrugged. "I guess you can. But don't get carried away playing…uh, _Batwoman_, Kate. You might wind up in more trouble than you realize."

"I won't," Katherine said. "Besides, someone has to look into this and do something, right?"

Bruce wanted to return to Wayne Enterprises after his lunch with the Kanes but he had to attend the opening of the Carmine Street Station. While his car was idling at an intersection, he punched in a call to Wayne Enterprises, using Lucius Fox's direct number.

"_Wayne Enterprises,"_ his CEO answered. _"Lucius Fox speaking."_

Bruce put on the miniature earpiece that Lucius had designed for him. "Mr. Fox, it's me."

"_How went the meeting with the Kanes, Mr. Wayne?"_ Lucius asked.

"It went well," Bruce replied. "Listen…I need a favor."

Lucius recognized the tone of his employer's voice immediately. _"What do you need, Bruce? Don't worry—the line's secure."_

"I'll need a…tracking device, you might say," Bruce explained. "Something like the sonar that you outfitted my suit with the last time, maybe. It has to be able to track two separate targets or more, if possible."

"_Who are you going to be tracking, Bruce?"_ Lucius asked.

"Katherine Kane and her assistant, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "I'll explain it in more detail when I get back to the office."

"_All right, Bruce. I may have something for you by then." _

Bruce thanked his CEO and then cut the line. He dialed another number. _"Wayne Residence," _Alfred answered. _"How may I help you?"_

"Alfred, it's me. Listen—would you please contact Dr. Thompkins and inform her that she might have a visitor tonight."

"_A visitor, sir? You mean yourself?"_

"Yes…but not as myself," Bruce said.

Alfred knew what he meant without having to ask. _"I'll call her right away, sir."_

Bruce thanked him and made one last call as he was nearing Carmine Street. "Hello, Talia? It's Bruce. I'm going to be working late tonight. I may have to take a rain check."

"_Oh. Okay. I might be busy this evening myself. How late will you be working?" _Talia wanted to know.

"Very late, I think," Bruce said.

Talia said goodbye to Bruce and then put her phone down on her worktable. Beside her laptop was a thick folder of documents—the information that Looker retrieved for her. It made for very interesting reading. Hugo Strange was truly a fascinating individual. Apparently, he was born in Gotham but orphaned at an early age. After graduating from medical school, he became a professor of psychology and psychiatry at Gotham University but was dismissed after several run-ins with the board and the president. He moved to New York and went into private practice. Along the way, he also studied a host of other subjects such as surgery, genetics, chemistry, and engineering. That knowledge profited him well later on when he began working for the government. Strange was employed either as a consultant or as the head of several defense projects. Some of those projects were eventually canceled for going above the allotted budget but a good number of them were considered successful thanks to Strange. The nature of those projects was unspecified so Talia had asked Looker to see if he could come up with more information about them. The information broker promised that she would.

Talia idly leafed through the folder. She was supposed to go out with Bruce tonight. Since he wasn't going to be available, she saw it as an opportunity to do a little more research on Hugo Strange. But she would have to be properly equipped, of course. She had her basic gear at hand. She knew from whom she could obtain more. If she wasn't mistaken, one of the men loyal to her father's ideals was currently in Gotham. She decided to go see him before he wandered off to parts unknown, as was his wont.

Katherine and Selina were back at HOPE WORKS, attending to the organization's business. Their investigation, however, was not far from their minds. While Selina was waiting for a fax, Katherine rang up Charlie Shreck, hoping he wasn't on duty at the moment.

"_Dr. Shreck,"_ he said into the phone.

Katherine thanked her luck. "Charlie, it's Katherine Kane. Are you busy?"

"_No, I'm on my break,"_ Charlie replied. _"Things got hectic around here. Sorry I couldn't talk to you long." _

"That's okay," Katherine said. "Charlie, what happened to the patients who were admitted to the emergency room this morning?"

"_Funny thing," _Charlie said but corrected himself: _"Actually, it's odd. All of them were suffering from a compromised immune system."_

"Is it HIV?" Katherine asked.

"_No,"_ Charlie said. _"It wasn't HIV. We're not sure what caused it yet."_

Katherine chose her words carefully before she spoke: "Could it have been a drug that they took?"

Charlie silently considered her question. _"That might be a possibility. Of course, I can't say for sure right now." _

"Would it be possible for me to find out if it was a drug?" Katherine wanted to know. "And what kind of drug it was?"

"_I can't promise you anything, Kathy,"_ Charlie told her. _"But I'll try to run some tests. If it _was_ a drug, maybe we have something that can counteract it."_

"Keep me posted, please, Charlie?"

"_I'll do my best, Kathy." _Charlie hung up and Katherine put the phone back in its cradle.

"Well, that's a step forward," Selina remarked, handing her boss a printout from the fax. Katherine read through it, signed it, and then returned it to her.

"Yeah," Katherine said. "But there has to be another avenue we can explore."

"We could always—" Selina was saying when one of HOPE WORKS' employees knocked on the door to Katherine's office. Selina went over to the door and opened it. "You've got a visitor in the reception area, Ms. Kyle," the employee told her.

"Go on, Selina," Katherine told her, picking up some papers. "Maybe it's Maggie." Selina thanked her and went to the reception area. Maggie wasn't there, though—just a black woman wearing a leather trench coat over a printed blouse and dark blue jeans.

"May I help you, ma'am?" Selina asked the woman.

"I think I'm the one who can help you, Selina," the woman said and Selina recognized the voice: it was the person who escorted her into Mama Fortuna's building. "Call me Patience."

"Patience…did Mama Fortuna send you here?" Selina asked.

Patience nodded. "Come with me. I need to show you something."

Selina looked back at Katherine's office. "I should tell my boss first."

"All right, but make it quick," Patience said. She turned and walked towards the door.

Bruce entered Applied Sciences where Lucius Fox was waiting for him. "You got the train working properly again, Mr. Fox," he told his CEO. "I'm glad."

Lucius nodded. "I figured it wasn't right to let something your father gave to the city go to seed. And now there's a new station, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir," Bruce replied. "Pretty soon the monorail's going to be able to take its passengers to every major point in Gotham."

"It's just as your father intended, Bruce." He waved his employer over to the worktable where he stood. "I think I've got what you need." He handed Bruce a small, rounded boxlike device.

"What's this?" Bruce asked. He saw that there was a hinge and managed to unfold the device. "Some kind of mobile phone?"

"Not exactly," Lucius said. He showed Bruce how to activate the device. "It's an electronic tracking device, just as you asked for. It can home in on a signal like your sonar does and show you the location of your target on the display."

"And what kind of signal can it pick up, Mr. Fox?" Bruce asked.

"Just about any electronic signal, Bruce," Lucius told him. "It functions as an RTLS and an RFID unit."

Bruce studied the keypad. "Would it work on a mobile-phone signal?"

"Of course," Lucius said. He showed Bruce how to do just that. Bruce decided to test it. He rang up Katherine's personal phone. _"Hello?" _she said.

"Hello, Kate," Bruce said. "It's me. I just wanted to check up on you to make sure you weren't playing Nancy Drew or anything like that."

"_That's sweet, Bruce,"_ Katherine said. _"What brought this on?"_

"Well, you know," Bruce said, "I was just worried about you and, uh—Selina, right?"

"_Yeah, Selina Kyle," _Katherine said. _"You must have made some impression on her." _

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Bruce asked.

"_On our way back to the office, she asked me about you," _Katherine said. _"She's impressed that someone who didn't finish college is now the head of Gotham's biggest business empire." _

"Well, I hope you told her that Mr. Fox does all the real work," Bruce said, laughing. "I just spend the company's money."

"_Lucky for you I didn't," _Katherine told him. _"That's not all, though: she says she feels like she knows you—like you two met in the past." _

Bruce smiled. "Now that's a bit too, uh, dramatic, isn't it?"

"_Yeah, I guess. But she does admire you, I can tell." _Katherine excused herself momentarily then said: _"I've got to go, Bruce. I have some business that needs to be taken care of. So do you, if I'm not mistaken. After all, it's not quitting time yet."_

"All right," Bruce said. "Tell Selina that I hope she does get to go back to college. And if she wants to work here—"

"_No way, Bruce,"_ Katherine said in mock disapproval. _"You're not hiring Selina away just to have someone to flirt with at the office."_

"It was worth a try anyway." Bruce aid goodbye to Katherine and waited for her to cut the line. Then he turned his phone off and looked at the device in his other hand. The display showed Katherine's general location. He pressed a button on the keypad and the display became a street map pinpointing where HOPE WORKS stood. A pulsing blip showed that Katherine was right in her office.

"It's almost like an electronic bloodhound, isn't it?" Lucius said with a smile.

"It is," Bruce agreed. "But what if she's not carrying her mobile phone or I can't pick up her phone signal?"

"Then you use these." Lucius held out his hand and Bruce saw a highly miniaturized object in his palm.

"What is this—a bug?" Bruce asked, picking it up and holding it up at eye level.

"I call it a MITE—short for Miniaturized Telemetry," Lucius replied. "If you can't home in on Ms. Kane's phone signal or you want to track her and someone else simultaneously, then you use the MITE's as backup."

"Sounds good to me," Bruce said. "I suppose you've designed carrying cases to fit on the utility belt?"

"Actually, I had some of the techs here at Applied Sciences work on an upgraded version of your belt," Lucius told him. He opened a case and showed the new utility belt to Bruce. "It can be reconfigured and adjusted to carry the items you need for a particular…well, _mission_ is a good word, I suppose."

Bruce nodded. "Agreed, Mr. Fox—that is an appropriate word for what I'm doing."

"I have to wonder, though," Lucius continued, "how long this mission will take to complete?"

Bruce thought about that as he tried on the belt. He was almost certain that his mission was about to end when Harvey Dent became D.A. But The Joker shattered that certainty by turning Dent into a killer. Bruce had to accept that his mission was far from over.

"I told Alfred when I was on my way back to Gotham that I'd stay for as long as it took to show that this place doesn't belong to the criminals and to the corrupt." He buckled the belt into place and attached the tracking unit and the case containing the MITE's. "So I guess the mission won't be over until I've accomplished what I said I would do."

"Well, if that's so," Lucius said, "then we're going to need some help."

"What do you mean, Mr. Fox?" Bruce asked.

"I may not always be able to give you the equipment you need, Bruce," Lucius said. "And there are plenty of bright, talented people here in Applied Sciences who wouldn't mind contributing to your cause."

Bruce eyed his CEO evenly. "Who did you have in mind?"

Lucius ticked off his candidates with his fingers. "Doug Fredericks—that's Joe Fredericks' son—Moria Locke, Onyx Adams, Gavin King, Luisa Del Rios, and Henry Grey are my top choices, Bruce. They all work here at Applied Sciences."

"What about your oldest son, Mr. Fox?" Bruce asked. "I thought he was going to be working here?"

"He'll start as an intern next summer and I know he'd fit in well with those three," Lucius replied. "And I'd trust him and the others I mentioned with my life, Bruce."

"That would make seven people. Eight when your son joins the company," Bruce said. "Will that be enough?"

"For now," Lucius said. "We can add more people when we need to."

"The less they know the better, though," Bruce reminded his CEO. "If anyone's life has to be endangered while I do what I have to do, it has to be mine. Nobody else should have to pay for what I want to accomplish."

Lucius looked at his employer and knew the depth of the pain he still bore inside him. "All right, Bruce. If that's the way you want it, then that's the way we'll do it. But remember: just because you don't want to put any of us in danger, that doesn't mean that we're going to let you carry out your mission alone."

Bruce considered that. Finally, he said: "I'll be counting on that, Mr. Fox. For as long as the mission continues."


	9. Chapter 9

Selina followed Patience quietly as she threaded her way through a labyrinth of back alleys and side streets. Initially, she tried making conversation with Mama Fortuna's proxy but Patience either wasn't the talkative type or she was ignoring her deliberately. Selina gave up after a few tries and concentrated on where they were passing. They were back in the East End, she knew that much, but Patience was obviously leading her into the central part of the area. The tenements surrounding her seemed to have grown right out of the streets and fused together as they rose towards the sky like parasitic plants entangling one another in a rain forest. A few times, Selina stumbled over some debris that lay scattered along their path. Patience didn't seem to have a problem; she didn't even bother to look down at her feet.

For some reason, that embarrassed Selina. She rubbed her shin, staring balefully at a piece of wood that she'd hit. She heard someone laugh but when she looked at where Patience stood, it didn't seem as if she'd made a sound.

"Need a hand?" Patience asked.

"No," Selina said. "I'm all right." Patience nodded and began walking again. Selina trailed her, concentrating on where she stepped until her instincts took over. Soon she was winding her way through the crisscrossing passages that Patience favored. The next time her companion looked back, Selina could almost swear that she saw the barest hint of a smile on her face.

"Some things you never really forget," Patience remarked. "No matter how hard you try."

Selina slapped some dust off her hands. "I guess not."

Patience nodded. "This way, Selina. We're not too far from our destination now."

Talia stood in front of a nondescript house with small windows and a security gate barring the front door. She pressed the buzzer beside the door and waited. A few moments later, someone called out through the intercom: "Who is it?"

Talia looked up and stepped a foot or two away from the door. She looked up at the hidden camera. Moments later, the door opened. She went inside the house.

"Well, well—Talia al Ghul," Michael Sommers said as she entered his living room—or, as he liked to call it, his parlor. "Fancy that. I haven't seen you for a while." Michael Sommers was one of her father's disciples. He didn't seem to recall much of his past and claimed to be some kind of "secret agent", probably with British or U.S. intelligence. Aside from being an incredibly skilled martial artist, he was also a deadly weapons expert. More than once, he created custom armaments that her father found useful for his purposes. Talia, of course, eventually learned the truth: he was a mercenary whose loyalty belonged to the highest bidder. After her father's death, however, he didn't join any of the breakaway factions of the League Of Shadows; he chose to go it alone, as was his style. Despite that, Talia knew that he was one of the few men who remained committed to her father's teachings.

"I don't suppose you're here to renew past relationships?" he asked as he served her tea and madeleines.

"What past relationships, Alpha?" Talia asked, using his code name from the League. During the times that she spent with her father, Sommers made it clear that he was attracted to her. Ra's al Ghul, though, didn't seem inclined to encourage their relationship. He may have been impressed with his skills but, as her father mentioned a few times in private, he was not the ideal man that he wanted to enter into a union with Talia. That didn't keep Talia from becoming friends with Sommers—though she made it quite clear to him that they would likely be no more than that.

"Ah, Talia—even now, you're still breaking my heart," Sommers said in a tone of mock sorrow. "Alas! That your father would never see how my heart was yours alone." He drank his tea in silence and ate a madeleine. Talia did the same.

"These madeleines are good, Alpha," she told him, helping herself to two more.

"I made them myself," Sommers said, brightening up at her compliment. "So—calling me Alpha means you aren't here for a social visit."

"Unfortunately, no," Talia said. "I came here for some…_equipment_."

"Equipment." Sommers stirred his tea. "I've got a fair amount of that here. Anything in particular you had in mind?"

"Battle dress is what I had in mind. Something protective but lightweight—and I'd like to go around incognito."

Sommers smiled at her. "I think I've got just the thing. Finish your tea and madeleines and I'll show you."

Alfred arrived just in time as his employer and Lucius were stepping out of the front doors of Wayne Enterprises.

"Just in time, Alfred," Bruce remarked. He let Lucius enter the car first before getting in himself. "Did you call Dr. Thompkins?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred replied as they drove away. "She seemed a bit surprised but she'll be expecting you. Her clinic is open practically twenty-four hours."

Bruce nodded. "I figured as much."

"You're going to see Leslie Thompkins?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, sir," Bruce replied.

Lucius looked at him reflectively. "As yourself?"

Bruce shook his head. "There's something I need to ask her—but not as Bruce Wayne."

Lucius caught Alfred's glance in the rear-view mirror. "Does this have something to do with your wanting to tail Katherine and her assistant?"

"It might," Bruce said. "I heard some curious things over lunch with her and Bertell Kane."

"Such as…?" Lucius wanted to know.

"Apparently, Katherine witnessed a small outbreak at Gotham Mercy," Bruce told his CEO. "It was some kind of viral infection. Her assistant, Selina Kyle, reported the same occurrence at Dr. Thompkins' clinic. They believe that the two might be connected."

Lucius made a small gibe at his employer: "You're doing the CDC's work now? I didn't think that would fall under your…_responsibilities_."

"Neither did I," Bruce admitted. "But something's not right here and I don't want Kate or Selina to get into anything over their heads."

"If I may say so, sir," Alfred interjected, "Miss Kane seems capable of protecting herself."

"Maybe so, Alfred," Bruce agreed. "I'd still like to make sure, though."

Alfred and Lucius exchanged glances again. They knew better than to talk Bruce out of the decision he'd made. But neither of them could help but feel concerned for his safety. Not for the first time, Alfred and Lucius wondered if perhaps Bruce was taking too much blame for what happened when The Joker was loose and terrorizing the city. However, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

The car entered the docks that served the flotilla of cargo ships that came to and went from Gotham. Alfred parked in front of a large container. The three of them got out of the car and entered the container.

"Good thing you two kept the place in good working order," Lucius commented as he stood in front of Bruce's work station. He ran his fingers across the keyboard and watched as various images appeared on one of the monitors. "You kept your cameras online, I see."

"It keeps me from getting caught by surprise," Bruce said as he took some items out of a shoulder bag. Alfred opened up the storage locker that held the Batsuit.

"You have one set up in front of Wayne Enterprises?" Lucius asked from the command console.

"I've got Wayne Enterprises covered, sir," Bruce admitted as he changed outfits. "The last thing I want is for anyone to sneak in the way The Joker did when he threw Rachel out the window of my apartment." He buckled his utility belt around his waist and began selecting the equipment he would need for the night.

"No. Of course not." Lucius approached Bruce and watched as he finished his preparations for his patrol. "After tonight, I wonder if I might take your suit in for some maintenance. No sense letting the damage you take pile up until it breaks."

"That's a good idea, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "But the headpiece…"

"I'll look it over here," Lucius said. "Is your other suit here as well?"

Bruce secured his headgear. "It's in the locker. Alfred, would you bring it out, please?"

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. Bruce nodded and headed for another door set into the wall of the container. The Batpod waited on the other side.

"Don't stay out too late, all right?" Lucius called after him. "We've got to attend that product demonstration at Powers Technology tomorrow morning."

"I'll be there, sir," Bruce assured him before leaving his CEO and his butler in the command center.

Alfred stood beside the work table where the first Batsuit lay for Lucius' inspection. "I'll make sure he arrives on time, Lucius," he told Bruce's CEO.

"Thank you, Alfred," Lucius said as he turned his attention to the Batsuit. As he expected, there was some damage to the suit. But he was surprised to find that Bruce had attempted to modify his suit. "You two modified this suit yourselves?"

"It was mostly Master Bruce's work," Alfred explained, "although I did provide some assistance." He went to the rack that held the suit and brought its attachments to the worktable. Lucius was impressed. Though the attachments made the suit unwieldy—hence Bruce's request for a new one—they functioned perfectly when he tested them. For someone who didn't even have an engineering degree like he did, Bruce certainly showed potential to be a genius in that field. Then again, Lucius mused, Bruce had the potential to be a genius in _any_ field he wanted, from what he could tell. He laughed at that thought.

"Something humorous, Lucius?" Alfred asked.

"Bruce is turning out to be a regular Sherlock Holmes, isn't he, Alfred?" Lucius remarked.

Alfred nodded. "He seems to be comfortable with technology—that much I can vouch for. But I also wish he would concentrate on other areas of expertise."

"What other areas?" Lucius asked.

"If he truly wishes to fight criminals, using brute force against them will not be enough," Alfred explained. "He needs to be able to use more, shall we say, _scientific_ methods."

Lucius undid some screws on the suit's handsaw attachment. He took out the small power cell and examined it. "You mean methods such as forensics."

Alfred nodded. "Exactly. He could do with more investigative techniques."

"It would certainly cut down on the wear and tear," Lucius agreed, "to his equipment—and to himself."

"Quite so," Alfred seconded him and added: "I'm quite certain that if Master Bruce could incorporate such methods into his own style, it would make him a much more effective crime fighter. I'm worried that he might be growing too dependent on all this technology to help him when his fighting ability won't suffice." He paused, wondering whether he should go on and then decided to do that: "I'm worried that one day, he may confront an adversary with superior technology or superior combat skills. And then what will he have left to fall back upon? He might find himself in a situation that he cannot handle, for all the confidence he has in himself."

"Bruce is good at what he does, Alfred," Lucius pointed out. "We can't deny that."

"Yes, he is," Alfred conceded. "But as I told him after the first time he saved Gotham, this…course of action he's taken might ultimately prove to be irrevocable to the point where he might not be able to walk away from it even if he wanted to. There may even come a time when he might suffer great humiliation or utter defeat at the hands of his adversaries. That's why I want him to keep his mind as sharp as his body, Lucius: so that one day, in the even that his body is broken, he can still continue his mission using his mind."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two men for several long moments. Alfred wondered if he had been imprudent in voicing his worst fears regarding Bruce. Perhaps Lucius was right: his fears might be unfounded. But what happened during The Joker's rampage was still fresh in Alfred's mind. His master came face-to-face then with a truth that both of them had perhaps been unwilling to confront: the criminals that The Batman fought were more than willing to do whatever they deemed as necessary to stop him. The Batman's enemies neither obeyed nor respected the rules that he set for himself. They knew no limits in their desire to see him defeated. _Know your limits,_ he admonished Bruce at the time, and yet he also counseled him to endure during the worst of it—to make the right choice that no one else might be able to make for the good of Gotham.

"Well, I'm sure he'll learn," Lucius remarked after a while. Then he added: "Of course, I will mention it to him from time to time. Between the two of us, I'm sure he'll get the hint."

"I hope so." Alfred shrugged. "Perhaps this inquiry he plans to hold with Leslie Thompkins might steer him towards that direction."

Selina's journey with Patience ended somewhere near the southwestern section of the East End. She could smell seawater among the other odors that pervaded throughout the air. At first glance, it looked like they were at a pocket park that had been left untended for several years. It took her a few moments to realize that they were in a public cemetery that had been crammed into an available space almost entirely hemmed in by tenement buildings. The buildings looked as if they were huddled together like survivors of a great tragedy.

"Recognize this place?" Patience asked. Selina was about to reply in the negative when something clicked in her mind. She _did_ know this particular cemetery. Her parents were buried here in paupers' graves. If she looked, she could probably find them among the confusion of tumbledown headstones and blighted greenery.

"Why did you bring me here?" Selina asked.

"You were asking Mama Fortuna about any sickness in the East End?" Patience replied. "Here's your answer." She led Selina to cluster of graves beneath a dying tree. Some of the graves had no markers while the others were vandalized almost beyond recognition. Selina knelt down to get a better look and took out her PDA. She could just barely make out the names on the markers that remained.

"Who are these people?" she asked as she took down names. Then she used her phone to photograph the graves and their location.

"They lived in one flat together," Patience explained. "They lived there and they died there."

"What was the cause of death?" Selina wanted to know.

"You'll have to check the coroner's report, if you can find it," Patience replied. "But the cause will most likely be listed down as tuberculosis."

"But tuberculosis is curable," Selina argued. "Why didn't they go to Dr. Thompkins' clinic?"

"They did," Patience said. "And the good doctor gave them the medicine they needed."

Selina frowned. "Then how come they died?"

Patience smiled and, for some reason, it frightened Selina. There was approbation in that smile as if she had finally asked the right question from Patience. "Well, isn't that what you're supposed to find out, Selina?" she said. "Think about it. The medicine came from Daggett BioIndustries, if that helps."

Selina thought it over and then asked: "You mean the medicine was defective somehow?"

"It worked rather well, don't you think?" Patience remarked. She gestured towards the graves with another chilling smile.

"Daggett BioIndustries murdered those people, didn't they?" Selina said. "They deliberately distributed defective medicine and now it's making people sick instead of making them better."

"Prove it, Selina Kyle," Patience challenged her. "Prove that they were responsible for the deaths of those people and for the deaths of other people yet to come.

"Prove it—if you can."

Dr. Thompkins was in her office, preparing some reports that she was hoping to share with some colleagues when she sensed, rather than saw, something outside her window. She got up and opened it, thinking that a prowler might be casing the clinic. When she saw nothing, she turned away from the window—and saw the shadowy figure standing in front of the door.

"Don't be afraid, Dr. Thompkins," the figure said, stepping closer. "I'm just here to ask a few questions, if I may."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Thompkins said. "I was informed of your visit but your appearance is quite…startling, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Not at all," The Batman replied. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"You aren't. And perhaps you might be able to help me, as our…mutual friend said." Dr. Thompkins sat down. "What do you want to discuss?"

"I heard there was a small outbreak here this morning," The Batman began.

"That's true," the doctor said. "I have six cases of recurrent bacterial infection here tonight that I'll be transferring to Gotham General or Gotham Mercy by morning."

The Batman cocked his head slightly. "A bacterial infection, doctor? Can't you treat them here?"

"Not anymore," Dr. Thompkins said. "Their condition worsened this evening."

"Worsened in what way?" The Batman asked.

Dr. Thompkins nodded. "Would you like to see them? They're in the isolation ward."

The Batman agreed. To keep his appearance from unsettling anyone else—especially her patients—Dr. Thompkins had him dress in scrubs. He left his headpiece in her office, trusting the cap and mask to conceal his identity. He kept his armor on, however. Before they left, he handed her something that looked like a smaller version of a gas mask.

"What's this?" Dr. Thompkins asked.

"It's a respiration filter," The Batman said. "Military medics use it when studying infectious diseases. You wear it over your surgical mask." He put his on and showed her how to secure it.

"Shall we go see my patients?" the doctor asked when they had their filters in place. The Batman nodded. As they walked to the isolation ward, The Batman said: "Good thing you have enough space for an isolation ward."

"Yes," Dr. Thompkins said. "We were fortunate to be able to acquire this building with the help of the Wayne Foundation."

"It could be bigger, though," The Batman commented.

"True," Dr. Thompkins admitted. "But I don't want to be running a hospital as large as Gotham Mercy, you know. Then I wouldn't be able to see the patients myself."

The Batman looked at her. "You enjoy attending to them personally."

The doctor smiled underneath her mask. "Of course. It's why I became a doctor." They stopped in front of a room near the back of the clinic. "Here we are." She opened the door and went inside. There were two nurses taking care of the patients. The Batman noted that they were wearing scrubs, masks, and gloves. He could hear some of the patients breathing in tortured gasps. A few had IV tubes attached to them; one was on a respirator.

"Good evening, ladies," Dr. Thompkins greeted her staff. "How are we doing?"

"Oh, doctor, I think they're—" one of the nurses was about to say in a distraught voice but the other nurse stopped her. "Go get me some gauze and surgical tape, Carly," she told the distraught nurse. "I'll speak with Dr. Thompkins." Carly nodded gratefully and left, her shoulders slumped.

"That bad, Jo?" Dr. Thompkins asked in a quiet tone.

"Yeah," Jo whispered. "Tell you the truth, Leslie, I don't like their chances." Then she noticed The Batman. "Who's this?"

"Gene Valley," The Batman said. "I'm a reporter with the Gotham Globe. I heard that something was going on here at the East End."

"This is Jo Carlton," Dr. Thompkins said. "She's my head nurse. Mr. Valley is here doing research for an article on health care in Gotham City."

"Yeah?" Jo said. "Then your readers will love this." She motioned for The Batman to follow her. She gestured towards one man. "This is Mr. Santos. That's his wife next to him. Mr. Santos contracted pneumonia and then passed it onto his wife while she was taking care of him. Then she passed it onto their son over there." The head nurse moved to another bed. "This is Len, last name unknown. He lives in a homeless shelter. They brought him here for leptospirosis. His friend over there caught it too." They went to the last bed where a young girl lay with a respirator hooked up to her. "And lastly, this is Christy. You know what she was brought here for, Mr. Valley?"

The Batman shook his head. "What was it?"

"She had an STD, Mr. Valley," Jo told him. "She had gonorrhea of the throat, thanks to a scumbag of an uncle who—thank God for small mercies—is now in jail."

"If it's an STD, why is she on a respirator?" The Batman asked.

"Because it's turned into some kind of full-blown infection, Mr. Valley," Jo explained. "Everyone in here is suffering from a compromised immune system. The problem is that we don't know what caused it."

The Batman looked around the room as if taking note of the condition of the patients. After a while, he said: "All right. Thank you for your time, ma'am."

"Would you wait for me outside while I speak with Jo, Mr. Valley?" Dr. Thompkins asked.

"Yes, ma'am," The Batman replied and walked out of the room without another word. He waited in the hallway and saw the other nurse returning with the supplies that her superior requested. She dropped a few of the gauze packs and The Batman bent down to retrieve them.

"Thanks," Carly said.

"Are you all right?" The Batman asked. Her eyes looked weary, most likely from stress.

"Yeah," Carly replied, but then she shook her head. "No—no, I'm not all right. This isn't…those people in there…" She began to cry to herself. "Especially Christy…this isn't right…"

"Tell you what—let me give those to Dr. Thompkins and Nurse Carlton," The Batman offered.

Carly looked at him and then wiped her eyes. "No, I'm a nurse too. This is my responsibility."

"You're doing a good job," was all The Batman could think to say. "Not many people are cut out for this line of work. It's tough."

"Tell me about it," Carly agreed. Then she sighed. "This is what I wanted to do since I was a kid. I live in this neighborhood. I wanted to help people so I took up nursing."

"Then hang in there," The Batman told her. "The night is always darkest before the dawn." Harvey Dent said that, he recalled.

"Yeah, I guess so." Carly smiled at him. "Thanks for listening. I'm sorry if I was such a crybaby."

The Batman shrugged. He was about to open the door for Carly but Dr. Thompkins beat him to it. She let Carly inside the ward and then closed the door behind her. She and The Batman returned to her office. She waited silently while he removed his scrubs and put his headgear back. When he was in full costume again, Dr. Thompkins asked: "So, what do you think?"

"You treated them all?" The Batman asked.

"Yes, using the same type of medicine," the doctor replied. "It was a bacteriocin-based drug that was donated to us by Daggett BioIndustries."

"Do you have any information regarding the drug? I'd like to find out what it's made of and how it's supposed to work."

"I have it in my files," Dr. Thompkins said. "I can print it out for you now unless you have an e-mail address that you'd care to give me."

The Batman gave her a secure e-mail address that he could access later. "I'd also like a copy of the patients' records or any notes you have regarding their condition, if it's possible."

"I'll have to edit it to prevent privacy violations," Dr. Thompkins said.

The Batman nodded. "I understand."

"Will that be all?" the doctor asked.

"It's a start," The Batman told her. "If we put our heads together, maybe we can find out if Daggett's drugs did cause this or if there's some kind of bug going around that we should be worried about."

"That would be best for all of us." Dr. Thompkins sat down in front of her computer and began to review her files for the information The Batman requested. "Will you be coming back here—" she was asking but when she turned to look at him, he was gone. The window was open. She hadn't even heard him leave.

Dr. Thompkins went to the window and looked out at the night, trying unsuccessfully to spot him. After a while, she returned to her desk. Her thoughts turned to her new ally and she wondered what help he would be able to provide. For the sake of the East End and maybe for all of Gotham, she hoped that his help would be enough to solve a mystery that was steadily becoming lethal.


	10. Chapter 10

Alexander Knox was at the coffee machine of the _Gotham Times_' newsroom. As usual, he was putting in some late hours reviewing articles and photos from the city desk reporters and putting the finishing touches his own work. He knew that he didn't have to stay at the office long after everyone else had gone home but it was in his blood. The way Knox himself put it, he was a "lifer" newsman. Allie Knox went from William F. Carson College (one of the smaller, city-run colleges in Gotham) to the _Gotham Globe_ before his diploma was even nailed to the wall of his home. He started out as a stringer, usually contributing articles _and_ photos (Knox prided himself on his camerawork), covering everything from grocery openings to traffic accidents to fires. Later on, he was assigned to the metro beat and was just one of a thousand other reporters pounding the pavement in Gotham, scrapping for a story when he found what he called his _true_ beat.

That beat was The Batman. Alexander Knox was one of the few reporters who dedicated himself to covering the exploits of Gotham City's unsung hero. Along the way, he crossed paths—and exchanged more than a few words—with the late Mayor Borg and Harvey Dent; Lieutenant Eckhardt, one of the dirtiest cops in Gotham P.D.; Carl Grissom, Antonio Rotelli, and a host of other mobsters; Detective Jim Gordon; and—most unforgettably—Vicky Vale, a freelance photographer who came to Gotham hoping to take a picture of the Bat herself. Knox found himself smiling as he thought about her, even though he lost Vicky to Bruce Wayne, the richest man in the city. To be fair, though, Wayne _did_ help save the _Times_ from going under when he persuaded one of his wealthy friends—a media mogul named Britt Reid—to buy the paper. Reid was apparently impressed by the fact that the _Times_ was one of the few papers that wasn't being cowed by the Gotham mob and encouraged the entire staff to stay that independent and fearless.

Knox absently sipped at his beverage—and nearly dropped his cup when he saw the tall figure emerge from the shadows of his office.

"For crying out loud, can't you make an appointment or something?" he asked, putting down his cup and wiping the drops of coffee on his shirt with his handkerchief.

"Sorry about that," The Batman said. "Working late again?"

"Yeah," Knox said. "So are you. I guess you didn't come here to shoot the breeze, did you?"

The Batman shook his head slightly. "No. I wanted to ask if any of your reporters submitted a story regarding recent outbreaks of infectious diseases in Gotham, particularly the East End."

"An outbreak?" Knox rummaged around his desk. "One of the new guys—his name's Striker—has been covering city health issues, what with the water mains nearly being poisoned and those tainted cosmetics we had."

The Batman said nothing by way of comment. Knox was one of the few media people who knew the real story behind Ra's al Ghul's plot to destroy Gotham. He also played a key role in helping defuse a crisis that stemmed from large quantities of tainted beauty and health products that flooded Gotham City supermarkets. After The Batman cracked the chemical code of the contaminant found in the products (with Lucius Fox's help), he sent Knox a list of items that were lethal when used together. The _Gotham Times_ not only got a scoop that day but helped save thousands of lives. City Hall and Gotham P.D. chose to give Knox credit for what Mayor Hill called "his timely assistance to his fellow citizens during a time of crisis" and ignored The Batman's efforts completely.

"Here we go." Knox handed The Batman a sheaf of papers. "Those are all from Striker."

The Batman skimmed the articles. One of the earliest was about a short-lived rash of cholera cases in the Narrows—nothing unusual since that was one of the places where the water mains were severely damaged during Ra's al Ghul's attempt to blanket the city with Jonathan Crane's fear toxin. The next one focused on an entire family living in an apartment in the East End that was wiped put by tuberculosis. The most recent article was an interview with Charlie Shreck regarding a rise in cases of infectious diseases admitted at Gotham Mercy. Something Charlie said caught The Batman's attention: "In most cases, it appears that an opportunistic infection is taking advantage of the victims' compromised immune systems."

_Compromised immune systems...something there?_ The Batman wondered. "Would it be possible for me to have a copy of these articles?"

"Sure," Knox said. "I'll send them to you like I usually do." Like Dr. Thompkins, he was also in possession of a secure e-mail address that The Batman gave him after he helped him with the tainted-products case.

"Good." The Batman gave the articles back to Knox. "And I'd like to speak with Mr. Striker, if it's possible."

"Are you kidding me? He'll think he's died and gone to heaven. He's a fan of yours." Knox put the articles back in his inbox. "Is this for a case or something?"

"It might be," The Batman said. "Dr. Thompkins has several cases similar to the ones that were discussed in Striker's interview with Charlie Shreck."

"I'll let Striker know," Knox said. "Maybe he can get some more information from Dr. Thompkins."

"I spoke with her already but maybe he can get something else," The Batman agreed.

"Is this going to be as bad as what almost happened with the water? Or with those contaminated products?"

The Batman thought about it. Then he said: "We'll see."

* * *

"What are those?"

Selina looked up from her PC. Katherine stood behind her, looking at the images on her monitor. She'd uploaded them from her phone so that she could get a better look.

"You remember the lady who came here this afternoon, ma'am?" Katherine nodded. Selina tapped the screen. "She took me to a public cemetery in the East End. These graves belong to one family that all died from tuberculosis."

"Didn't they get any treatment?" Katherine asked. "I thought Dr. Thompkins' clinic was free."

"According to Patience, they did," Selina replied. "But it didn't work. The medicine might not have been as effective as Dr. Thompkins thought it was."

Katherine frowned. "Let me guess: Daggett BioIndustries was the source of the medicine."

"That's right, ma'am," Selina said.

"I suppose it's time we started looking in their direction, isn't it?" Katherine said. "Since Granddad funded their research, I think I've got every right to find out how every penny was spent."

"It's a start," Selina agreed. "We might be able to get samples of the drugs they distributed so that we can test them."

Katherine nodded. "Call their offices tomorrow and make an appointment, Selina. I want you to come with me if and when I can speak with Mr. Daggett."

"All right, ma'am." Selina smiled wryly. "If we don't find out what's going on, these free clinics that we're opening might be filled to capacity." The phone on her desk rang and she excused herself to answer it. "Hello?"

"_Hi, sis,"_ Maggie answered at the other end. _"What time are you coming home? I'm making dinner."_

Selina clapped a hand to her forehead and cursed herself for not telling Maggie she'd be working late. "Uh, I probably won't be home for dinner, Mags. I have some things to finish here—"

Katherine cut her off by activating the speaker: "Hello, Maggie? It's Katherine Kane."

"_Good evening, Ms. Kane,"_ Margaret said. _"I hope you and Selina won't work too late."_

"We won't," Katherine said. "Or she won't. She's on her way home."

"_She is? Thank you, ma'am," _Margaret told her. Then, rather shyly, she added: _"You're welcome to join us for dinner, if you want."_

"Uh, Mags, I think Ms Kane has other plans," Selina was saying but Katherine interjected: "I'd love to, Maggie. It's been a while since I last saw you. We'll be there in an hour and a half."

"_All right, Ms. Kane. You two have a safe trip."_ With that, Maggie said goodbye.

"Listen, ma'am, about Mags," Selina began, "I'm sure she—"

"I'm sure she meant her invitation, Selina," Katherine said. "Look—we've been working late for the past couple of weeks anyway, even before this mystery with Daggett started. We can knock off early for tonight. It won't kill us. And I _do_ want to see Maggie again."

"Well…" Selina still looked unsure. Katherine had never been to their apartment so she was worried that her housekeeping skills might not be up to par with what her boss was used to at her home. Then again, Maggie _did_ like Katherine and considered her as her other older sister.

"All right, ma'am," she finally said. "Do you mind cats, though? We've got one at the apartment."

"You bought a cat?" Katherine asked.

"No…actually, Maggie brought it home," Selina explained. "It was a stray."

"Maggie really has a soft spot for strays, doesn't she?" Katherine remarked.

"Yeah," Selina agreed. "It comes with the territory, I guess."

* * *

Atop a building across HOPE WORKS, Talia watched as Katherine and Selina left. The listening equipment that Alpha gave her allowed her to eavesdrop on their conversation. As she prepared to tail her friend and her assistant, she made a mental note to ask Looker for whatever data she could find on Selina Kyle. Information was a weapon too, her father often told her, thus encouraging her more scholarly pursuits.

She ran across the roof and cast out a line to assist her in her leaping towards the next building. The ensemble she assembled from what she had at hand and what Alpha provided her with was indeed light; she only hoped that the armor that came with it was as strong as Alpha said it was.

Katherine's car turned right. Fortunately, Talia saw a tractor trailer moving in the same direction. There was no hesitation in every step she took as she leaped off the rooftop where she was and landed on the trailer. She flattened herself against the top of the trailer and hung onto whatever handholds were available. She felt the night breeze flowing past her and realized that she was feeling more than just a little exhilarated. It had been quite a while since she did something like this.

_Star_ _City…that's it_, Talia thought. An old friend, Oliver Queen, asked for her help with a gang of toxic polluters that was trying to dump hazardous waste in Star City's harbor. Although Oliver emphasized that her job would be to collect evidence that could be used in court, Talia eventually got physically involved and demonstrated just how much her father taught her when it came to combat. Despite a rather lucrative offer to remain as Oliver's assistant, she declined since she felt she was needed elsewhere—and since she knew that she was becoming a source of friction between Oliver and his fiancée Dinah Lance. She did, however, promise to return for their wedding.

She raised her head slightly and checked the progress of Katherine's car. It was still in sight. Talia settled back down but remained alert. Briefly, she wondered where Bruce was. _Back in his office_, _most likely_, she thought. _Or out on the town._ It amazed her to find that she was a little upset at the second possibility. Was she starting to feel some sort of affection for Bruce? Her father's letters to her spoke well of him and, reading between the lines, she could sense that he was attempting to make a match between her and Gotham's favorite son. Knowing her father, such a match—no, more like a _union_ would be consistent with his plan to take control of Gotham.

Still, she had to admit, there was much to like about Bruce. If only she had the luxury of turning her professional interest in him to something else…_but that's neither here nor there_, she told herself. Talia snapped her attention back to what she was doing just in time to notice that Katherine's car was about to move in the opposite direction of her own transport. She cast out a line and swung off the trailer onto a nearby edifice; then she scaled the wall using her grappling claws in order to continue following Katherine and Selina.

* * *

Jim Gordon leaned back in his chair as he finished reading the last of a small stack of reports on his desk. Bullock and the other detectives were having it easy lately, cleaning up some of the other cases that were left pending in the wake of The Joker's insanity. Bullock, in particular, was enjoying himself putting away some of the Maroni family members. Ramirez was helping him out with those arrests and, to her credit, Bullock's private comments about her to Gordon were largely positive.

He heard a noise outside his window and turned just in time to see something moving—or flapping—outside. He got up from his chair and left his office. Nobody else was around, which was good—although he had a feeling that his visitor had scouted Police Central carefully before making his presence known. When he got to the roof, he waited patiently until something came out of the shadows.

"What brings you here tonight?" Gordon asked The Batman.

"Something's going on in the East End," The Batman replied. "I thought it might be worth looking into."

"What is it?"

"Are you familiar with Dr. Leslie Thompkins?" The Batman asked.

Gordon nodded. "She used to run a free clinic in the Narrows but it got shut down when—what's his name?—Ra's al Ghul tried to poison the city. Now she has a clinic in the East End." The commissioner paused. "Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"She might be," The Batman said. "Her clinic admitted six patients who are suffering from a compromised immune system. And she's not the only one. Gotham Mercy had eight similar cases; Gotham General, five."

Gordon digested that information. Nineteen cases, all alike…his policeman's instincts pricked up; something was definitely not right there. "Did they all come from the East End?"

The Batman nodded. "That's affirmative. I checked."

"You think we should quarantine the area?"

"No. Not yet, anyway. The cause hasn't been isolated yet, although it's either a new viral strain capable of being passed on in different ways or it's a batch of defective medicine."

"Where's the medicine from?" Gordon asked.

"Daggett BioIndustries," The Batman answered.

"Roland Daggett…" Gordon was quiet for several moments. Roland Daggett was one of the city's legitimate businessmen but had his own share of skeletons in his closet Gotham P.D. hadn't been able to crack the door to that closet open just yet but Daggett was suspected of having been in with Max Shreck during the early days of his strong-arm schemes and of accepting cash from Carl Grissom, Carmine Falcone, and Sal Maroni for various favors he did for them.

"Daggett's got a shady background, I know," The Batman said. "But finding evidence against him hasn't been easy."

"Tell me about it," Gordon agreed. From what Gordon and his detectives could come up with, Daggett was apparently supplying covert mob clinics with medical supplies so that they wouldn't have to visit a hospital whenever the internecine warfare among the criminal organizations broke out or when they had encounters with Gotham P.D. Whenever he was accused of such activities, however, Daggett would vehemently deny involvement with the mob and declare that his trucks were being hijacked on an almost regular basis by the organizations' goons in order to get to his medical supplies. From there, he would then go on to rant about the corruption in Police Central itself and about how the mayor should be ashamed that one of the pillars of the community should have to be at the mercy of the criminal element that seemed to control the city. The mayor, being a major recipient of Daggett's money during fundraisers (especially while he was campaigning) would then order Gordon to provide more protection for Daggett and for all the businessmen who contributed to the development of Gotham. More than once, Bullock wondered loudly why the police themselves had to protect the city's biggest crooks.

"I suppose I can ask Ramirez to look into it," the commissioner said. "Bullock's got things under control, as far as taking care of Maroni's men is concerned."

"That's good," The Batman said noncommittally. He knew how much Bullock liked kicking Maroni while he was down and filling the jail cells with his men. "How's Ramirez holding up, by the way?" he asked, almost as an afterthought, although Gordon knew that he was keeping a close watch on her.

"Pretty well," Gordon replied. "Bullock says that she's been doing her job the way she's supposed to be doing it." He took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. "The way things are going, her reinstatement should only be a matter of time."

"That's good to know," was The Batman's only comment. "I'll let you know if I find out anything else."

Gordon nodded but said nothing. The Batman stepped off the roof and let the night wind carry him away from Police Central. The commissioner waited until he was out of sight before going back to his office.

* * *

By the time Katherine and Selina arrived, Maggie already had dinner waiting on the table.

"Hi, sis," Selina said, kissing her sister on the cheek. "Sorry if we're late. The boss insisted that we stop and bring something home."

"We brought dessert," Katherine said, handing Maggie a rather fancy box complete with a ribbon tied in a bow.

"Thank you, Ms. Kane," Maggie said. "You really shouldn't have bothered…"

Katherine smiled at the young woman. "It's no problem, Maggie. And I figured since you made dinner, dessert should at least be on us."

"That's very nice of you, Ms. Kane," Maggie said. "Would you like to wash up before we eat? The bathroom is down that hall."

Katherine thanked her and left the two sisters for a few moments. "Where's Isis?" Selina asked Maggie. The object of her question appeared silently from somewhere behind their couch. Isis walked with a regal grace that no human royalty could hope to match.

"Hey there, you." Selina bent down and stroked the cat on the head. "I hope you'll be on your best behavior. We've got a visitor tonight." Isis rubbed her cheek against Selina's finger and then appeared to nod in agreement. Then she disappeared again just as Katherine came out of the bathroom.

"I hope the bathroom wasn't too cramped," Selina said apologetically.

"Not at all," Katherine assured her. Selina excused herself and Maggie led her sister's boss to the kitchen.

* * *

Talia lowered her binoculars. Katherine and her assistant were sitting down to dinner (at that thought, her stomach purred softly but she ignored it). If this was simply a social visit, she thought her presence wouldn't be required. Perhaps it was time for her to return home and find something to eat. Traveling on one's stomach might be all well and good for an army but hunger was a potent enemy. Even her father's disciples weren't allowed to go hungry, though they didn't exactly have a banquet at the temple.

She was about to leave her perch on the roof closest to the Kyles' apartment building when she heard something land softly nearby. She crouched lower behind the vent and tried to determine the source of the noise. It might've been a stray animal but her instincts told her otherwise.

Footsteps, soft and stealthy, coming from her left—in that instant, Talia knew that there was another person on the roof. Silently, she cursed herself for not detecting their presence earlier. Whoever it was had to be good enough to move almost soundlessly, like the night breeze. And that meant only one person in Gotham.

_Time to face him,_ Talia thought. She stood up and saw, less than a yard away, the person stalking her.

The Batman was as motionless as a statue but he radiated an air of intimidation that couldn't be denied. Talia looked him in the eye and tried to read his intentions. His control was admirable and he gave nothing away; so she decided to probe his defenses.

"Well, so the stories are true," she said. "The Batman isn't a figment of Gotham's imagination."

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The Batman asked.

"To the point, I see," Talia replied. "I'm here to see what the city's been like since you appeared." She shrugged. "I must admit, it's been quiet."

The Batman said nothing but he advanced imperceptibly. Talia took a step back—and then bolted. She knew she would only be gaining a few minutes—or even a few seconds—at most but she had to get some distance between herself and her potential adversary. When she risked a glance behind her, however, Talia saw that the Bat was closing in much faster than she thought he was capable of doing.

Talia reacted swiftly: she slowed down and pivoted quickly but carefully. Her arm swung out and several _shuriken_ went flying towards The Batman. Her target, however, was able to avoid most of them. She launched more _shuriken_, aiming low. The Batman leaped over the deadly metal stars, rolled and was about to rise but she was able to keep him pinned for a few seconds with another rain of throwing stars—just enough for her to move into position. When The Batman did rise, she caught him with a kick to the shoulder that sent him falling onto the concrete. He rolled rose and caught her next kick. He jerked her forward, disrupting her balance. Talia toppled over but quickly sprang to her feet into a defensive position. The Batman reached for something on his belt.

_A gun_, Talia's mind calmly told her. She prepared to dive out of the way; if it was a semi-automatic handgun, she had a chance to evade the shots. When she saw her adversary's finger squeeze the trigger, she moved.

It was no bullet, however—it was some kind of dart…no, a miniature spear that hooked itself to her outer garment. And there was a line attached to it. The Batman yanked the line backwards and she was pulled forward. Talia dug in her heels, trying to keep him from reeling her in like a fish.

The Batman activated something on his gun that allowed him to pull harder. Her feet were starting to move. Talia had grappled against larger, stronger opponents but she knew that her boots couldn't maintain their purchase on the concrete any longer.

_Flow_, she heard Lady Shiva say in her mind. _Sometimes, you must flow with the tide of battle._

Talia relaxed and let the gun pull her forward…and then leaped towards her adversary. The Batman dropped the gun to ward off her assault. It didn't come. She landed a few feet away from him and quickly took out the knife that Alpha provided her with and dislodged the tip of the spear from her garment. By then the Bat was almost upon her. She rose and lashed out with the knife. Her opponent used his gauntlets to block the blade. Talia went low and caught him an elbow to the midsection. She followed it up with a well-timed forearm to the jaw. That bought her some much-needed time and space.

"Impressive," Talia said. "Very impressive—but now is not the time for us to clash. Let me thank you, though, for the opportunity you've given me." She spun and went off in a rush. The Batman followed her. This time, she decided not to let him get any closer. She dropped a small canister behind her that erupted into a burst of bright light. A quick look behind and she saw that The Batman had been momentarily distracted by the flare. Talia ran headlong towards the edge of the roof. Before the Bat could catch her, she jumped.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Selina asked, rising from her chair.

"What?" Katherine asked.

"I thought I saw something explode on that roof across the street." Selina went over to the kitchen window that could give her the best view. She scanned the rooftop but saw nothing that might indicate the cause of the explosion—if that's what it was.

Katherine and Maggie joined her. "Are you sure it was an explosion?" her sister asked. "Maybe we should call 911."

"Doesn't seem like there's a fire," Katherine remarked. "But maybe it would be better if we did. Where's your phone?" Maggie went with her to make the call. Selina tried to peer further out the window to find out what was happening. As she did, she seemed to see a shadow detach itself from one of the vents on the roof. Then it disappeared again—but not before she saw what looked like the outline of ...of a batwing?

_The Batman_, she told herself. It had to be him. But what was he doing out there? Was he watching over her and her two companions? That was a thought but she doubted it. Maybe he was just chasing a burglar or something like that.

She was shutting the window when Katherine and Maggie returned. "Gotham F.D. said they'd send a unit over to check it out," Katherine told her. "I phoned it in anonymously."

Selina nodded absently. Her thoughts, however, were on what she'd seen. Somehow, it made her feel a little better—a little _safer­_ knowing that The Batman was out there, looking after the city.


End file.
